la 


THE  WARD   OF   KING  CANUTE 


"  Her  wide  bright  eyes  sought  his,  with  the  terror  of  a  snared  bird.  " 

[Page  88| 


die  WARD 

OF 

Kinc  CAPUCC 

3\  Romance  OP 

Cfce  Danish  Conquest 

WRiraen  BY 

Occiue  J\  LiyencRnncz 


Gfte  £F>&AU  OP  Leir  che  LUCKY 

h  AV1PC  PlCCimeS  EY  CROY  $ 

wesc  KinntY 


,  llljivnjfiRD  ^  Co. 

Boston 


Copyright 

By  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 
1903 


University  Press  •  John  Wilson 
and  Son  •  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

FOR  the  facts  of  this  romance  I  have  made  free 
use  of  the  following  authorities :  The  Anglo- 
Saxon  Chronicle  ;  The  Venerable  Bede's  Ecclesiastical 
History  of  England  ;  Ingulph's  History  of  the  Abbey 
of  Croyland ;  William  of  Malmesbury's  Chronicle  of 
the  Kings  of  England;  The  Chronicles  of  Florence  of 
Worcester;  Lingard's  History  and  Antiquities  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  Church,  and  Lingard's  History  of  Eng- 
land; Dean  Spencer's  The  White  Robe  of  Churches; 
Collier's  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Great  Britain; 
Montalembert's  Monks  of  the  West;  Thrupp's  Anglo- 
Saxon  Home;  Hall's  Queens  Before  the  Conquest; 
Kemble's  Saxons  in  England;  Ridgway's  Gem  of 
Thorney  Island;  Brayley  and  Britton's  History  of  the 
Ancient  Palace  and  Late  Houses  of  Parliament;  Lof- 
tie's  Westminster  Abbey  and  Loftie's  History  of  Lon- 
don ;  Allen's  History  and  Antiquities  of  London; 
Lappenberg's  History  of  England  Under  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  Kings;  Sharon  Turner's  History  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  ;  Knight's  Old  England  ;  Hume's  History  of 
England ;  Green's  Conquest  of  England ;  Thierry's 
History  of  the  Conquest  of  England  by  the  Normans ; 
Freeman's  History  of  the  Norman  Conquest. 

For  the  translations  of  Hdvamal,  etc.,  used  at  the 
beginnings  of  the  chapters,  I  am  indebted  to  Professor 
Rasmus  B.  Anderson  and  Mr.  Paul  du  Chaillu. 

O.  A.  L. 

CHICAGO,  April  i,  1903. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Frode n 

II.  Randalin,  Frode's  Daughter ai 

III.  Where  War-Dogs  Kennel 33 

IV.  When  Royal  Blood  is  Young  Blood 42 

V.  Before  the  King .     .  51 

VI.  The  Training  of  Fridtjof  the  Page 64 

VII.  The  Game  of  Swords 72 

VIII.  Taken  Captive 84 

IX.  The  Young  Lord  of  Ivarsdale 90 

X.  As  the  Norns  decree 103 

XI.  When  my  Lord  comes  Home  from  War 118 

XII.  The  Foreign  Page 131 

XIII.  When  Might  made  Right 145 

XIV.  How  the  Fates  cheated  Randalin 158 

XV.  How  Fridtjof  cheated  the  Jotun 171 

XVI.  The  Sword  of  Speech i8a 

XVII.  The  Judgment  of  the  Iron  Voice 191 

XVIII.  What  the  Red  Cloak  hid 202 

XIX.  The  Gift  of  the  Elves 213 

XX.  A  Royal  Reckoning    .............  223 

7 


2136754 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.     With  the  Jotun  as  Chamberlain 237 

XXII.  How  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  paid  his  Debt       .     .     .  250 

XXIII.  A  Blood-Stained  Crown 260 

XXIV.  On  the  Road  to  London 272 

XXV.     The  King's  Wife 283 

XXVI.    In  the  Judgment  Hall 294 

XXVII.     Pixie-Led 307 

XXVIII.     When  Love  meets  Love 319 

XXIX.     The  Ring  of  the  Coiled  Snake 325 

XXX.     When  the  King  takes  a  Queen 340 

XXXI.     The  Twilight  of  the  Gods 356 

XXXII.    In  Time's  Morning 372 


FOREWORD 


THERE  is  an  old  myth  of  a  hero  who  renewed  his 
strength  each  time  he  touched  the  earth,  and 
finally  was  overcome  by  being  raised  in  the  air  and 
crushed.  Whether  or  not  the  Angles  risked  a  like 
fate  as  they  raised  themselves  away  from  the  primitive 
virtues  that  had  been  their  life  and  strength,  no  one 
can  tell ;  but  it  has  been  well  said  that  when  North- 
ern blood  mingled  with  English  blood  at  the  time  of 
the  Danish  Conquest,  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  touched 
the  earth  again. 


The 

Ward  of  King  Canute 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  FRODE 

Full  stocked  folds 

I  saw  at  the  sons  of  Fitjung, 

Now  they  carry  beggars'  staffs ; 

Wealth  is 

Like  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 

The  most  unstable  of  friends. 

HAVAMAL. 

,S  the  blackness  of  the  mid- 
ummer  night  paled,  the 
broken  towers  and  wrecked 
alls  of  the  monastery 
loomed  up  dim  and  stark 
in  the  gray  light.  The 
long-drawn  sigh  of  a  wak- 
ing world  crept  through 
[the  air  and  rustled  the  ivy 
leaves.  The  pitying  angel 
of  dreams,  who  had  striven  all  night  long  to  restore 
the  plundered  shrine  and  raise  from  their  graves  the 

IX 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

band  of  martyred  nuns,  ceased  from  his  ministra- 
tions, softly  as  a  bubble  frees  itself  from  the  pipe 
that  shaped  it,  and  floated  away  on  the  breath  of 
the  wind.  Through  a  breach  in  the  moss-grown  wall, 
the  first  sunbeam  stole  in  and  pointed  a  bright  finger 
across  the  cloister  garth  at  the  charred  spot  in  the 
centre,  where  missals  and  parchment  rolls  had  made 
a  roaring  fire  to  warm  the  invaders'  blood-stained 
hands. 

As  the  lark  rose  through  the  brightening  air  to 
greet  the  coming  day,  a  woman  in  the  tunic  and  cowl 
of  a  nun  opened  what  was  left  of  the  wicket-gate  in 
the  one  unbattered  wall.  A  trace  of  the  luxury  that 
had  dwelt  under  the  gilded  spires  survived  in  her 
robes,  which  had  been  of  a  royal  purple  and  embroid- 
ered with  silken  flowers ;  but  the  voice  of  Time  and  of 
Ruin  spoke  from  them  also,  for  the  purple  was  faded 
to  a  rusty  brown,  and  the  silken  embroideries  were 
threadbare.  She  struck  a  note  in  perfect  harmony  with 
her  surroundings,  as  she  stood  under  the  crumbling 
arch,  peering  out  into  the  flowering  lane. 

Stretching  away  from  her  feet  in  dewy  freshness, 
it  made  a  green  link  between  the  herb-garden  of  St. 
Mildred's  and  the  highway  of  the  Watling  Street.  Like 
the  straggling  hedges  that  were  half  buried  under  a  net 
of  wild  roses,  red  and  white,  the  path  was  half  effaced 
by  grass ;  but  beyond,  her  eye  could  follow  the  straight 
line  of  the  great  Roman  road  over  marsh  and  meadow 
and  hill-top.  If  grass  had  gathered  there  also,  during 
the  Anglo-Saxon  times,  there  were  no  traces  of  it  now, 

12 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  FRODE 

in  the  days  of  Edmund  Ironside  when  Canute  of  Den- 
mark was  leading  his  war-host  back  and  forth  over  its 
stones.  Between  the  dark  walls  of  oak  and  beech,  it 
gleamed  as  white  as  the  Milky  Way.  The  nun  was 
able  to  trace  its  course  up  the  slope  of  the  last  hill. 
Just  beyond  the  crest,  a  pall  of  smoke  was  spread 
over  a  burning  village.  Though  it  was  miles  away,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  the  wind  brought  cries  of  anguish 
to  her  ear,  and  prayers  for  mercy.  Shivering,  she 
turned  her  face  back  to  the  desolate  peace  of  the 
ruins. 

"  Now  is  it  clear  to  all  men  why  a  bloody  cloud 
was  hung  over  the  land  in  the  year  that  Ethelred  came 
to  the  throne,"  she  said.  "  I  feel  as  the  blessed  dead 
might  feel  should  they  be  forced  to  leave  the  shelter 
of  their  graves  and  look  out  upon  the  world." 

Rising  from  its  knees  beside  a  bed  of  herbs,  a 
second  figure  in  faded  robes  approached  the  gate. 
Sister  Sexberga  was  very  old,  much  older  than  her 
companion,  and  her  face  was  a  wrinkled  parchment 
whereon  Time  had  written  some  terrible  lessons. 

She  said  gently,  "We  are  one  with  the  dead,  be- 
loved sister.  Those  who  lie  under  the  chancel  lay  no 
safer  than  we,  last  night,  though  the  Pagans'  passing 
tread  shook  the  ground  we  lay  on,  and  their  songs 
broke  our  slumbers.  Let  us  cease  not  to  give  thanks 
to  Him  who  has  spread  over  us  the  peace  of  the 
grave." 

The  shadows  deepened  in  the  eyes  of  Sister  Wyn- 
freda  as  she  turned  them  back  toward  the  lane,  for  her 

'3 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

patience  was  not  yet  ripe  to  perfect  mellowness.  She 
was  but  little  past  the  prime  of  her  rich  womanhood, 
and  still  bore  the  traces  of  a  great  beauty.  She  bore 
in  addition,  upon  cheek  and  forehead,  the  scars  of  three 
frightful  burns. 

"  The  peace  of  the  grave  can  never  be  mine  while 
my  heart  is  open  to  the  sorrows  of  others,"  she  an- 
swered with  sadness.  "  Sister  Sexberga,  that  was  an 
English  band  which  passed  last  night.  I  made  out 
English  words  in  their  song.  I  am  in  utmost  fear  for 
the  Danes  of  Avalcomb." 

" '  They  that  take  the  sword  shall  perish  with  the 
sword,' "  the  old  nun  quoted,  a  little  sternly.  "  An 
Englishman  was  despoiled  of  his  lands  when  Frode 
the  Dane  took  Avalcomb.  If  now  Frode's  turn  has 
come  —  " 

Her  companion  made  a  gesture  of  entreaty.  "  It 
is  not  for  Frode  that  I  am  timorous,  dear  sister,  nor 
for  the  boy,  Fridtjof ;  it  is  for  Randalin,  his  daughter." 

Sister  Sexberga  was  some  time  silent.  When  at 
last  she  spoke,  it  was  but  to  repeat  slowly,  "  Randalin, 
his  daughter.  God  pity  her !  " 

Sister  Wynfreda  was  no  longer  listening.  She  had 
quitted  her  hold  upon  the  gate  and  taken  a  step  for- 
ward, straining  her  eyes.  They  had  not  deceived  her. 
Out  of  a  tall  mass  of  golden  bloom  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  lane,  an  arm  clad  in  brown  homespun  had  tossed 
elf  for  one  delirious  instant.  Trailing  her  robes  over 
the  daisied  grass,  the  nun  came  upon  a  wounded  man 
lying  face  downward  in  the  tangle. 

14 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  FRODE 

There  was  little  in  that  to  awaken  surprise;  it 
would  have  been  stranger  had  warriors  passed  with- 
out leaving  some  such  mute  token  in  their  wake.  Yet 
when  the  united  strength  of  the  four  arms  had  turned 
the  limp  weight  upon  its  back,  a  cry  of  astonishment 
rose  from  each  throat. 

"  The  woodward  of  Avalcomb !  " 

"The  hand  of  the  Lord  hath  fallen! " 

After  a  moment  the  younger  woman  said  in  a 
trembling  voice,  "  The  whisper  in  my  heart  spoke 
truly.  Dearest  sister,  put  your  arm  under  here, 
and  we  will  get  him  to  his  feet  and  bring  him  in, 
and  he  will  tell  us  what  has  happened.  See!  he 
is  shaking  off  his  swoon.  After  he  has  swallowed 
some  of  your  wine,  he  will  be  able  to  speak  and  tell 
us." 

It  was  muscle-breaking  work  for  women's  backs, 
for  though  he  tried  instinctively  to  obey  their  direc- 
tions, the  man  was  scarcely  conscious;  his  arms  were 
like  lead  yokes  upon  his  supporters'  shoulders.  Just 
within  the  gate  their  strength  gave  out,  and  they 
were  forced  to  put  him  down  among  the  spicy  herbs. 
There,  as  one  was  pulling  off  her  threadbare  cloak  to 
make  him  a  pillow,  and  the  other  was  starting  after 
her  cordial,  he  opened  his  eyes. 

"Master!"  he  muttered.  "Master?  Have  they 
gone?" 

In  an  instant  Sister  Wynfreda  was  on  her  knees 
beside  him.  "  Is  it  the  English  you  mean?  Did  they 
beset  the  castle?  " 

'5 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

Slowly  the  man's  clouded  eyes  cleared.  "  The 
Sisters  —  "  he  murmured.  "  I  had  the  intention  —  to 
get  to  you  —  but  I  fell  —  "  His  words  died  away  in  a 
whisper,  and  his  eyelids  drooped.  Sister  Sexberga 
turned  again  to  seek  her  restorative.  Sister  Wynfreda 
leaned  over  and  shook  him. 

"  Answer  me,  first.  Where  is  your  master?  And 
young  Fridtjof?  And  your  mistress?" 

He  shrank  from  her  touch  with  a  gasp  of  pain. 
"  Dead,"  he  muttered.  "  Dead  —  At  the  gate  — 
Frode  and  the  boy —  The  raven-starvers  cut  them 
down  like  saplings." 

"And  Randalin?" 

"  I  heard  her  scream  as  the  Englishman  seized 
her  —  Leofwinesson  had  her  round  the  waist  —  they 
knocked  me  on  the  head,  then  —  I  —  I  — "  Again 
his  voice  died  away. 

Sister  Wynfreda  made  no  attempt  to  recall  him. 
Mechanically  she  held  his  head  so  that  her  companion 
might  pour  the  liquid  down  his  throat.  That  done, 
she  brought  water  and  bandages,  and  stood  by,  absent- 
eyed  and  in  silence,  while  Sexberga  found  his  wounds 
and  dressed  them.  It  was  the  older  woman  who  spoke 
first. 

"  The  fate  of  this  maiden  lies  heavy  on  your  mind, 
beloved,"  she  said  tenderly ;  "  and  I  would  have  you 
know  that  my  heart  also  is  sorrowful.  For  all  that 
she  is  the  fruit  of  darkness,  it  was  permitted  by  the 
Lord  that  Randalin,  Frode's  daughter,  should  be  born 
with  a  light  in  her  soul.  It  was  in  my  prayers  that 

16 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  FRODE 

we  might  be  enabled  to  feed  that  light  as  it  were  a 
sacred  lamp,  to  the  end  that  in  God's  good  time  the 
spreading  glory  of  its  brightness  might  deliver  her 
from  the  shadows  forever." 

Staring  before  her  with  unseeing  eyes,  Sister 
Wynfreda  nodded  an  absent  assent.  "  To  me  also  it 
seemed  that  the  Lord  had  led  her  to  us  ...  I  keep  in 
mind  how  she  looked  when  she  came  that  first  morn- 
ing ...  a  bit  of  silk  was  in  her  hand,  which  Frode 
had  given  her  for  a  present,  because  a  golden  apple 
was  wrought  upon  it.  She  came  on  her  horse,  with 
the  boy  Fridtjof,  to  offer  us  bread  from  the  castle 
kitchen  if  we  would  agree  to  teach  her  the  secret  of 
such  handiwork.  And  when  we  said  that  for  the  sake 
of  bread  to  lighten  the  evil  days  we  would  comply 
with  her  in  the  matter,  she  laughed  with  pleasure,  and 
her  laughter  was  as  grateful  to  the  ear  as  the  chime 
of  matin  bells.  I  can  see  her  again  as  she  sat  above 
us  in  her  saddle,  laughing:  her  long  hair  blew  about 
her,  and  the  red  blood  glowed  in  her  cheeks,  and  her 
eyes  were  like  pools  that  the  sun  is  shining  on  — " 
Suddenly  the  Sister's  voice  broke,  and  she  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands. 

The  old  nun  regarded  her  compassionately.  Hers 
had  been  a  long  hard  life,  and  she  was  very  near  the 
mountain-top  from  whose  summit  the  mystery  of  the 
valleys  is  revealed. 

After  a  time  she  spoke  with  tender  reverence: 
"  Almighty  Father,  who  hast  given  us  strength  to  en- 
dure our  own  trials  without  murmuring,  grant  us  also 
2  17 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

the  grace  to  accept  patiently  the  chastening  of  those 
we  love." 

The  bowed  head  of  Sister  Wynfreda  sank  lower, 
and  slowly  the  heaving  of  her  breast  was  stilled.  In 
the  chapel  four  feeble  old  voices  raised  a  chant  that 
trembled  and  shook  like  a  quivering  heart-string. 

"  I  beseech  thee  now, 
Lord  of  Heaven, 
And  pray  to  thee, 
Best  of  human-born, 
That  thou  pity  me, 
Mighty  Lord ! 
And  aid  me, 
Father  Almighty, 
That  I  thy  will 
May  perform 
Before  from  this  frail  life 
I  depart." 

Tremulously  sweet  it  drifted  out  over  the  garden 
and  blended  with  the  aroma  in  the  air.  The  wounded 
man  smiled  through  his  pain. 

Raising  her  tear-stained  face  at  last,  Sister  Wyn- 
freda said  humbly,  "  God  pardon  me  if  I  sin  in  my 
grief,  but  to  me  it  seems  so  bitter  a  thing  when  trouble 
comes  upon  the  young.  The  first  fall  of  the  young 
bird  in  its  flight,  the  first  blow  that  startles  the  young 
horse,  —  I  flinch  before  them  as  before  my  own  wounds. 
When  the  light  of  the  fair  young  day  dies  before  the 
noon,  I  feel  the  shadow  in  my  heart;  and  it  saddens 
me  to  find  a  flower  that  worms  have  eaten  in  the  bud 
and  robbed  of  its  brief  life  in  the  sun.  How  much 

18 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  FRODE 

more,  then,  shall  I  grieve  for  the  blighting  of  this 
human  flower?  I  declare  with  truth  that  the  first  time 
I  saw  her  my  heart  went  out  to  her  in  a  love  which 
taught  me  how  mothers  feel.  Her  freshness  and  glad- 
ness have  fed  my  starved  heart  like  wine.  I  cannot 
bear  that  trouble  should  crush  them  out  of  her  in  the 
very  flower  of  her  youth;  I  cannot  bear  that  tears 
should  wear  channels  down  her  soft  cheeks  and  dim 
the  brightness  of  her  eyes.  Sooner  would  I  give  what 
remains  to  me  of  life!  Sister,  do  I  sin?  Do  I  seem  to 
murmur  against  His  will?  But  I  have  grown  used  to 
suffering,  while  she  —  what  has  she  known  but  love  ? 
Oh,  have  I  not  suffered  enough  for  both?  Could  she 
not  have  been  spared?"  Her  voice  mounted  to  a  cry 
of  exceeding  bitterness. 

Sister  Sexberga  rose,  stretching  toward  her  a 
tremulous  pitying  hand.  The  light  that  shines  on  the 
mountain-top  was  very  bright  on  her  wrinkled  old 
face.  She  said  softly,  "  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  that 
you  sin  in  your  grief,  most  dear  sister.  But  I  give  you 
this  thought  for  your  comfort:  if  you,  who  are  tied  to 
her  by  no  bond  of  the  flesh  can  feel  for  her  so  great 
and  brooding  an  affection,  what  then  must  be  the 
love  of  Him  who  fashioned  her  fair  young  body  and 
lit  the  light  of  her  glad  spirit?  Of  a  surety  its  tender 
yearning  can  be  no  less  than  yours.  It  may  be  that 
with  tears  He  would  wash  the  dust  of  the  world  from 
her  eyes,  that  her  sight  may  be  clear  for  a  vision  of 
holier  things.  But  believe  that,  even  as  you  would 
shelter  her,  so  will  He  not  forsake  her  in  her  helpless- 

19 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

ness.  Believe,  and  be  eased  of  your  fear."  A  rustling 
of  her  robe  across  the  grass,  and  she  was  gone. 

The  chant  ceased,  the  wavering  treble  dying  away 
in  a  note  of  haunting  sweetness.  The  man  moaned 
and  clutched  at  his  wound;  and  the  bowed  figure  by 
his  side  roused  herself  to  tend  him.  Then  a  grating 
of  rusty  hinges  made  her  turn  her  head. 

Under  the  crumbling  arch,  relieved  against  the 
green  of  the  lane  beyond,  stood  the  figure  of  a  slender 
boy  wrapped  in  a  mantle  of  scarlet  that  bore  a 
strangely  familiar  look.  His  hair  fell  upon  his  shoul- 
ders in  soft  wavy  locks  of  raven  blackness;  but  his 
face  was  turned  away  as  his  hands  fumbled  at  the 
fastening. 

Sister  Wynfreda  rose  and  took  a  step  forward, 
staring  at  him  in  bewilderment. 

"  Fridtjof  ?  "  she  questioned. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  boy  turned  and 
hastened  toward  her.  Then  a  great  cry  burst  from 
Sister  Wynfreda,  for  the  face  under  the  black  locks 
was  the  face  of  Randalin. 


20 


CHAPTER  II 


RANDALIN,  FRODE'S  DAUGHTER 

At  a  hoary  speaker 

Laugh  thou  never. 

Often  is  good  that  which  the  aged  utter ; 

Oft  from  a  shrivelled  hide 

Discreet  words  issue. 

HAVAMAL. 

HE  made  a  convincing  boy, 
this  daughter  of  the  Vik- 
ings. Though  she  was  six- 
teen, her  graceful  body  had 
retained  most  of  the  lines 
and  slender  curves  of  child- 
hood; and  she  was  long  of 
limb  and  broad  of  shoulder. 
Her  head  was  poised  alertly 
above  her  strong  young 
throat,  and  she  was  as  straight  as  a  fir-tree  and  as 
supple  as  a  birch.  A  life  out-of-doors  had  given  to  her 
skin  a  tone  of  warm  brown,  which,  in  a  land  that  ex- 
pected women  to  be  lily-fair,  was  like  a  mask  added  to 
her  disguise.  The  blackness  of  her  hair  was  equally  un- 
connected with  Northern  dreams  of  beautiful  maidens. 
"  Dark-haired  women,  like  slaves,  black  and  bad,"  was 
the  proverb  of  the  Danish  camps.  Some  fair-tressed 

21 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

ancestor  back  in  the  past  must  have  qualified  his  blood 
from  the  veins  of  an  Irish  captive;  in  no  other  way 
could  one  account  for  those  locks,  and  for  her  eyes 
that  were  of  the  grayish  blue  of  iris  petals. 

The  eyes  were  a  little  staring  this  morning,  as 
though  still  stretched  wide  with  the  horror  of  the 
things  they  had  looked  upon;  and  all  the  glowing  red 
blood  had  ebbed  away  from  the  brown  cheeks. 

She  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  My  father  .  .  .  Frid- 
tjof  .  .  ."  then  stopped  to  draw  a  long  hard  breath 
through  her  set  teeth. 

For  the  moment  Sister  Wynfreda  was  not  a  nun 
but  a  woman,  —  a  woman  with  a  great  yearning  ten- 
derness that  might  have  been  a  beautiful  mother-love. 
She  ran  to  the  girl  and  caught  her  tremblingly  by  the 
hands,  feeling  up  her  arms  to  her  shoulders  and  about 
her  face,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  she  was  really 
unharmed. 

"  Praise  the  Lord  that  you  are  delivered  whole  to 
me !  "  she  breathed.  "  Gram  told  us  —  that  they  had 
taken  you." 

Gazing  at  her  out  of  horror-filled  eyes,  Randalin 
stood  quite  still  in  her  embrace.  Her  story  came  from 
her  in  jerks,  and  each  fragment  seemed  to  leave  her 
breathless,  though  she  spoke  slowly. 

"  I  broke  away,"  she  said.  "  They  stood  around 
me  in  a  ring.  Norman  Leofwinesson  said  he  would 
carry  me  before  a  priest  and  marry  me,  so  that  Aval- 
comb  might  be  his  lawfully,  whichever  king  got  the 
victory.  I  said  by  no  means  would  I  wed  him;  sooner 

22 


RANDALIN,  FRODE'S  DAUGHTER 

would  I  slay  him.  All  thought  that  a  great  jest  and 
laughed.  While  they  were  shouting  I  slipped  between 
them  and  got  up  the  stairs  into  a  chamber,  where  I 
bolted  the  door  and  would  not  open  to  them,  though 
they  pounded  their  fists  sore  and  cursed  at  me.  After 
a  while  the  pounding  became  an  exertion  to  them,  and 
one  began  to  talk  about  the  mead  that  was  waiting 
below.  And  after  that  they  whispered  together  for  a 
space.  At  last  they  began  to  laugh  and  jeer,  and  called 
to  me  that  they  would  go  down  and  drink  my  wedding 
toast  before  they  broke  in  the  door  and  fetched  me; 
and  then  they  betook  themselves  to  feasting." 

Sister  Wynf reda  bent  her  head  to  murmur  a  prayer : 
"  God  forgive  me  if  I  have  lacked  charity  in  my  judg- 
ment on  the  Pagans!  If  they  who  have  seen  the  light 
can  do  such  deeds,  what  can  be  expected  of  those  who 
yet  labor  under  the  curse  of  darkness?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  Randalin  said  wearily, 
sinking  on  the  grass  and  passing  her  hands  over  her 
strained  eyes.  "  When  a  man  looks  with  eyes  of  long- 
ing upon  another  man's  property,  it  is  to  be  expected 
that  he  will  do  as  much  evil  as  luck  allows  him. 
Though  he  has  got  Baddeby,  Norman  was  covetous 
of  Avalcomb.  When  his  lord,  Edric  Jarl,  was  still 
King  Edmund's  man,  he  twice  beset  the  castle,  and  my 
father  twice  held  it  against  him.  And  his  greed  was 
such  that  he  could  not  stay  away  even  after  Edric  had 
become  the  man  of  Canute." 

«s  It  was  the  nun's  turn  for  bewilderment.     "The 
man  of  Canute?     Edric  of  Mercia,  who  is  married  to 

23 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

the  King's  sister?  It  cannot  be  that  you  know  what 
you  say ! " 

"  Certainly  I  know  what  I  say,"  the  girl  returned 
a  little  impatiently.  "  All  English  lords  are  fraudu- 
lent; men  can  see  that  by  the  state  of  the  country. 
Though  he  be  thrice  kinsman  to  the  English  King, 
Edric  Jarl  has  joined  the  host  of  Canute  of  Denmark; 
and  all  his  men  have  followed  him.  But  even  that 
agreement  could  not  hold  Norman  back  from  Aval- 
comb.  He  lay  hidden  near  the  gate  till  he  saw  my 
father  come,  in  the  dusk,  from  hunting,  when  he  fell 
upon  him  and  slew  him,  and  forced  an  entrance  —  the 
nithing!  When  he  had  five-and-fifty  men  and  my 
father  but  twelve!" 

She  paused,  with  set  lips  and  head  flung  high. 
The  nun  got  down  stiffly  beside  her  and  laid  a  gentle 
hand  upon  her  knee. 

"Think  not  of  it,  my  daughter,"  she  urged. 
"  Think  of  your  present  need  and  of  what  it  behooves 
us  to  do.  Tell  me  how  you  escaped  from  the  chamber, 
and  why  you  wear  these  clothes." 

"  They  were  Fridtjof's."  She  spoke  his  name  very 
softly.  "  I  found  them  hanging  on  the  chamber  wall. 
In  the  night  the  men  began  to  entertain  themselves 
with  singing,  and  it  could  be  heard  that  they  were 
getting  drunk.  It  had  been  in  my  mind  that  I  would 
stay  where  I  was  until  they  forced  the  door;  then, 
because  I  would  like  it  better  to  die  than  to  marry  any 
of  them,  I  would  throw  myself  out  of  the  window,  and 
the  stones  below  would  cause  my  death.  But  now  it 

24 


RANDALIN,  FRODE'S  DAUGHTER 

came  to  me  that  if  I  could  dress  so  that  they  would  not 
notice  me,  there  were  many  good  chances  that  I  might 
slip  past  them  and  get  out  through  the  postern.  I 
waited  till  they  were  all  still,  and  then  I  crept  into  the 
women's  room,  and  found  the  bondmaids  huddled  in 
their  beds.  They  got  afraid  at  the  sight  of  me,  for 
they  thought  I  was  Fridtjof's  ghost;  and  they  dared 
not  move.  So  I  had  to  go  down  alone."  She  shud- 
dered in  spite  of  herself.  "  Never  did  I  think  that 
darkness  could  be  so  unpleasant,  —  when  one  is  listen- 
ing for  sounds  and  fears  to  put  out  a  hand  lest  it  touch 
something  alive!  But  I  got  past  the  door  and  through 
the  guard-room,  where  the  Englishmen  were  snoring 
so  loud  that  they  would  not  have  heard  if  I  had 
stamped.  In  a  niche  in  the  wall  outside  I  found  Aim- 
stein  the  steward  hiding,  full  of  fear.  I  made  him 
follow  me  out  of  the  postern  and  around  to  the  gate 
where  .  .  .  my  father  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  Fridtjof  .  .  ."  Her 
voice  broke,  but  she  struggled  on.  "  The  English  dogs 
had  left  them  there.  .  .  .  My  father's  face  was  .  .  . 
wounded  .  .  .  and  the  moon  made  his  hair  all  silver 
round  it,  so  that  the  blood  looked  to  be  black  blots.  .  .  . 
And  Fridtjof  s  sword  was  in  his  hand.  .  .  .  Always  he 
had  wished  to  go  into  battle,  though  he  was  no  more 
than  fourteen  winters  old.  .  .  .  There  was  a  smile  on 
his  lips.  ...  I  made  Almstein  dig  two  graves.  He  is 
a  cowardly  fellow,  and  it  is  likely  that  he  would  have 
left  them  there  till  the  English  were  gone.  I  kissed 
Fridtjof's  mouth,  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  and  I  laid  .  .  .  my 
father's  cloak  .  .  .  over  .  .  .  over  his  .  .  .  face." 

25 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

It  was  useless  trying  to  go  on;  a  deep  sob  shut 
off  her  voice  and  threatened  to  rend  her  when  she 
tried  to  hold  it  back.  Sister  Wynfreda  strove  with 
gentle  arms  to  draw  her  down  upon  her  breast. 

"  Suffer  the  tears  to  come,  my  daughter,"  she 
urged  her  tenderly,  "  or  sooner  or  later  they  must." 

Randalin  pulled  away  almost  roughly,  dashing  the 
drops  from  her  eyes. 

"They  shall  not!"  she  cried  brokenly.  "They 
shall  not!  Am  I  a  weak-minded  English  woman  that 
I  should  shed  tears  because  my  kin  are  murdered? 
I  will  shed  blood  to  avenge  them;  that  is  befit- 
ting a  Danish  girl.  I  will  not  weep,  —  as  though 
there  were  shame  to  wash  out!  They  died  with 
great  glory,  like  warriors.  I  will  fix  it  in  my  mind 
that  I  am  a  kinswoman  of  warriors.  I  will  not 
weep." 

The  older  woman  shrank  a  little.  To  ears  at- 
tuned to  the  silence  of  the  grave,  such  an  outburst  was 
little  less  than  terrifying;  she  was  at  a  loss  how  to 
soothe  the  girl.  To  gain  a  respite,  she  stole  away  and 
renewed  the  wounded  man's  bandages. 

After  a  moment  Randalin  rose  and  followed,  buck- 
ling her  cloak  as  she  went. 

"  Since  I  am  become  this  man's  lord,  I  think 
it  right  for  me  to  see  how  he  fares  before  I  leave 
him,"  she  explained.  Once  more  she  spoke  gently, 
though  the  fire  of  her  pride  had  quite  dried  her 
tears. 

"  Before  you  leave  him?  "  The  form  in  the  faded 
26 


RANDALIN,  FRODE'S  DAUGHTER 

robes  turned  inquiringly  toward  the  erect  young  figure 
in  its  brave  scarlet  cloak.  "What  is  it  you  say,  my 
child?" 

But  Randalin  was  bending  low  over  the  green 
couch.  "  Do  you  know  who  I  am?  "  she  was  asking 
urgently  of  the  woodward.  "  Fix  your  eyes  on  me  and 
try  to  gather  together  your  wits." 

Slowly  the  man's  wandering  gaze  focussed  itself; 
a  silly  laugh  welled  up  in  his  throat. 

"  It  would  be  no  strange  wonder  if  I  did  not,"  he 
chuckled.  "  Odin  has  changed  you  greatly ;  your  face 
was  never  so  beautiful.  But  this  once  you  cannot  trick 
me,  Fridtjof  Frodesson." 

There  came  a  time  when  this  mistake  was  a  source 
of  some  comfort  to  Randalin,  Frode's  daughter;  but 
now  she  stirred  impatiently. 

"  Look  again,  and  try  to  command  your  tongue^ 
Tell  me  the  state  of  your  feelings.  Can  you  live?" 

The  man  shook  with  his  foolish  laughter.  "  You 
cub!  Will  not  even  being  killed  cure  you  of  your 
tricks?  If  you  who  have  been  in  Valhalla  do  not 
know  what  Odin  intends  about  my  life,  how  can  I 
know,  who  have  stayed  on  earth?  " 

Sister  Wynfreda's  hand  fell  upon  the  girl's  arm. 
"  Disquiet  yourself  no  further,"  she  whispered.  "  It 
is  useless  and  to  no  end.  If  it  please  the  Lord  to  bless 
our  labors,  the  wound  will  soon  be  healed.  Come  this 
way,  where  he  cannot  hear  our  voices,  and  tell  me 
what  moves  you  to  speak  of  leaving.  Is  it  not  your 
intention  to  creep  in  with  us?  " 

27 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

As  she  yielded  reluctantly  to  the  pressure,  Ran- 
dalin  even  showed  surprise  at  the  question.  "  By  no 
means.  My  errand  hither  was  only  to  ask  for  bread. 
I  thought  it  unadvisable  to  venture  into  the  castle 
kitchen,  yet  it  is  needful  that  I  keep  up  my  strength. 
I  go  direct  to  the  Danish  camp  to  get  justice  from 
King  Canute." 

The  nun  reached  out  and  caught  the  gay  cloak, 
gasping.  "The  Danish  camp?  You  speak  in  a  raving 
fit!  Better  you  thrust  yourself  into  a  den  of  ravenous 
beasts.  You  know  not  what  you  say." 

Offense  stiffened  the  figure  under  the  cloak.  "  It 
is  you  who  do  not  know.  Now,  as  always,  you  think 
about  Canute  what  lying  English  mouths  have  told  of 
him.  I  know  him  from  my  father's  lips.  No  man  on 
the  Island  is  so  true  as  he,  or  so  generous  to  those 
who  ask  of  him.  Time  and  again  have  I  heard  my 
father  bid  Fridtjof  to  imitate  him.  He  is  the  highest- 
minded  man  in  the  world."  Her  voice  as  she  ended 
was  a  stone  wall  of  defiance.  Sister  Wynfreda  made  a 
desperate  dash  down  another  road. 

"  My  daughter,  I  entreat  that  you  will  not  despise 
my  offer.  The  yoke  is  not  so  heavy  here.  Here  is  no 
strict  convent  rule;  how  could  there  be?  We  are  but 
a  handful  of  feeble  old  women  left  living  after  those 
who  led  us  are  gone,  to  the  end  that  heathen  fog 
smother  not  utterly  the  light  which  once  was  so  bright. 
In  truth,  most  dear  child,  you  would  have  no  hard  lot 
among  us.  A  few  hours'  work  in  the  garden,  —  surely 
that  is  a  pleasure,  watching  the  fair  green  things  spring 

28 


RANDALIN,  FRODE'S  DAUGHTER 

and  thrive  under  your  care.  And  when  the  tender- 
ness of  the  birds  and  the  content  of  the  little  creep- 
ing creatures  have  filled  your  heart  to  bursting  with 
a  sense  of  God's  goodness,  to  come  and  stand  before 
the  Holy  Table  and  pour  out  your  joys  in  sweet 
melody  —  " 

But  Randalin's  head  was  shaking  too  decidedly, 
though  she  was  not  ungentle  in  her  answering.  "  I 
give  you  thanks,  Sister  Wynfreda,  but  such  a  life  is 
not  for  me.  My  nature  is  such  that  I  do  not  like  the 
gloomy  songs  you  sing ;  nor  do  I  care  for  green  things, 
except  to  wear  in  my  hair.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
should  be  spiritless  and  a  coward  if  I  should  like  such 
a  life.  I  am  no  English  girl,  to  tremble  and  hide  under 
a  mean  kirtle.  I  am  a  Norse  maiden,  the  kinswoman 
of  warriors.  I  think  I  should  not  show  much  honor  to 
my  father  and  my  brother  were  I  to  leave  them  un- 
avenged and  sit  down  here  with  you.  No,  I  will  go  to 
my  King  and  get  justice.  When  he  has  slain  the  mur- 
derer and  given  me  the  castle  again,  I  will  come  back; 
and  you  shall  come  and  live  with  me,  and  eat  meat 
instead  of  herbs,  and  —  " 

In  her  desperation,  Sister  Wynfreda  caught  her  by 
the  wrists  and  held  her.  "  My  daughter,  my  daughter, 
shake  off  this  sleep  of  your  wits,  I  entreat  you!  The 
men  you  are  trusting  in  are  dreams  which  you  have 
dreamed  in  the  safety  of  your  father's  arms.  They 
among  whom  you  are  going  are  barbarians,  —  yea, 
devils!  It  were  even  better  had  you  married  the  son 
of  Leofwine.  Think  you  I  know  nothing  of  the  Pagans, 

29 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

that  you  set  my  words  at  naught?  Who  but  Danish- 
men  laid  low  these  walls,  and  slaughtered  the  holy 
nuns  as  lambs  are  torn  by  wild  beasts?  Have  I  not 
seen  their  horrid  wickedness?  You  think  a  nun  a 
coward?  Know  you  how  these  scars  came  on  my 
face?  Three  times,  with  my  own  hands,  I  pressed  a 
red-hot  iron  there  to  destroy  the  beauty  that  allured, 
—  else  had  the  Pagans  dragged  me  with  them.  Was  I 
a  coward?  " 

Randalin's  eyes  were  very  wide.  "  It  seems  to  me 
that  you  were  simple-minded,"  she  breathed.  "  Why 
did  you  not  thrust  the  iron  in  his  face?  " 

But  Sister  Wynfreda's  expression  changed  so 
strangely  that  the  girl  foresaw  an  attack  along  an- 
other line,  and  hastened  to  forestall  it.  "  It  is  not 
worth  while  to  tell  me  further  about  the  matter.  Do 
you  not  see  that  it  is  by  no  means  the  same?  I  shall 
be  a  Danish  woman  among  Danish  men.  I  shall  not 
be  a  captive,  to  be  made  a  drudge  of  and  beaten.  It 
is  altogether  different.  I  shall  be  with  my  own  people, 
my  own  King.  Let  us  end  this  talk.  Give  me  the 
bread  and  let  me  go.  The  sun  is  getting  high." 

She  glanced  at  it  as  she  spoke,  and  found  it  so 
much  higher  than  she  had  realized  that  her  haste 
increased. 

"  No,  I  dare  not  wait  for  it.  It  is  necessary  that 
I  get  a  good  start,  or  they  will  overtake  me.  They 
are  to  join  Canute  near  Scoerstan;  I  heard  it  talked 
among  them.  My  horse  is  somewhat  heavy  in  his 
movements,  for  he  is  the  one  Gram  rode  yesterday;  I 

3° 


RANDALIN,  FRODE'S  DAUGHTER 

found  him  grazing  by  the  road.  Let  me  go,  Sister 
Wynfreda.  Bid  me  farewell  and  let  me  go." 

Clutching  at  her  belt,  her  arm,  her  cloak,  the  nun 
strove  desperately  to  detain  her.  "  Randalin !  Listen ! 
Alas!  how  you  grieve  me  by  talking  after  this  man- 
ner! Wait,  you  do  not  understand.  It  is  not  their 
cruelty  I  fear  for  you.  Child,  listen!  It  is  not  their 
blows  —  " 

But  Randalin  had  wrenched  herself  free.  "  Oh, 
fear,  fear,  fear !  "  she  cried  impatiently.  "  Fear  your 
enemies;  fear  your  friends;  fear  your  shadow!  Old 
women  are  afraid  of  everything!  You  will  see  when 
I  come  back.  No,  no,  do  not  look  at  me  like  that;  I 
do  not  mean  to  behave  badly  toward  you,  but  it  will 
become  a  great  misfortune  to  me  if  I  am  hindered; 
it  will,  in  truth.  See  now;  I  will  kiss  you  —  here  — 
where  your  cheek  is  softest.  I  cannot  allow  you  to 
take  hold  of  my  cloak  again.  There!  Now  lay  your 
hand  upon  my  head,  as  you  do  with  the  children  when 
you  wish  them  good  luck." 

Because  there  was  nothing  else  to  do,  and  be- 
cause the  thought  of  doing  this  gave  her  some  com- 
fort, Sister  Wynfreda  complied.  Laying  her  trembling 
hands  upon  the  bared  black  head,  she  raised  her  de- 
spairing face  to  heaven  and  prayed  with  all  the  earn- 
estness that  was  hers.  Then  she  stood  at  the  gate  in 
silence  and  watched  the  girl  set  forth.  As  Randalin 
turned  into  the  sunny  highway,  she  looked  back  with 
a  brave  smile  and  waved  her  cap  at  the  faded  figure 
under  the  arch.  But  the  nun,  left  in  the  moss-grown 


THE   WARD    OF   KING    CANUTE 

garden,  wrapped  in  the  peace  of  the  grave,  saw  her 
through  a  blur  of  tears. 

"  God  guard  you,  my  fledgeling,"  she  whispered 
over  and  over.  "  My  prayers  be  as  a  wall  around  you. 
My  love  go  with  you  as  a  warm  hand  in  your  loneli- 
ness. God  keep  you  in  safety,  my  most  beloved 
daughter!" 


CHAPTER   III 


WHERE    WAR-DOGS    KENNEL 

Openly  I  now  speak 

Because  I  both  sexes  know: 

Unstable  are  men's  minds  toward  women; 

'T  is  when  we  speak  most  fair, 

When  we  most  falsely  think : 

That  deceives  even  the  cautious. 

HAVAMAL. 

HIS  morning  there  were 
ibut  few  travellers  upon  the 
Watling  Street.  South  of 
the  highway  the  land  was 
held  by  English  farmers, 
who  would  naturally  re- 
main under  cover  while  a 
Danish  host  was  in  the 
neighborhood;  while  north 
of  the  great  dividing  line 
lay  Danish  freeholds  whose  masters  might  be  equally 
likely  to  see  the  prudence  of  being  in  their  watch- 
towers  when  the  English  allies  were  passing.  Barred 
across  by  the  shadows  of  its  mighty  trees,  the  great 
road  stretched  away  mile  after  mile  in  cool  emptiness. 
At  rare  intervals,  a  mounted  messenger  clattered  over 
the  stones,  his  hand  upon  his  weapon,  his  eyes  rolling 
sharply  in  a  keen  watch  of  the  thicket  on  either  side. 
3  33 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Still  more  rarely,  foraging  parties  swept  through  the 
morning  stillness,  lowing  cows  pricked  to  a  sharp  trot 
before  them,  and  squawking  fowls  slung  over  their 
broad  shoulders.  Captured  pigs  gave  back  squeal  for 
squawk,  and  the  voices  of  the  riders  rose  in  uproari- 
ous laughter  until  the  very  echoes  revolted  and  cast 
back  the  hideous  din. 

The  approach  of  the  first  of  these  bands  caused 
Randalin's  heart  to  leap  and  sink  under  her  brave 
green  tunic.  For  all  that  she  could  tell  from  their 
dress,  they  might  as  well  be  English  as  Danish.  If 
her  disguise  should  fail!  As  they  bore  down  upon  her, 
she  drew  her  horse  to  the  extreme  edge  of  the  road 
and  turned  upon  them  a  pale  defiant  face. 

On  they  came.  When  they  caught  sight  of  a  sprig 
of  a  boy  drawn  up  beside  the  way  with  his  hand  rest- 
ing sternly  on  his  knife,  they  sent  up  a  shout  of 
boisterous  merriment.  The  blood  roared  so  loudly  in 
Randalin's  ears  that  she  could  not  understand  what 
they  said.  She  jerked  her  horse's  head  toward  the 
trees  and  drove  her  spur  deep  into  his  side.  Only  as 
he  leaped  forward  and  they  swept  past  her,  shouting, 
did  the  words  reach  home. 

"  Look  at  the  warrior,  comrades !  "  "  Hail,  Ber- 
serker ! "  "  Scamper,  cub,  or  your  nurse  will  catch 
you ! "  "  Tie  some  of  your  hair  on  your  chin,  little 
one!" 

As  the  sound  of  hoof-beats  died  away,  and  the 
nag  settled  back  to  his  steady  jog-trot,  the  girl  un- 
clenched her  hands  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

34 


WHERE   WAR-DOGS    KENNEL 

"  Though  it  seems  a  strange  wonder  that  they 
should  not  know  me  for  a  woman,  I  think  I  need  give 
myself  no  further  uneasiness.  It  must  be  that  I  am 
very  like  Fridtjof  in  looks.  It  may  be  that  it  would 
not  be  unadvisable  now  for  me  to  ask  advice  of  the 
next  person  how  I  can  come  to  the  camp." 

The  asking  had  become  a  matter  of  necessity  by 
the  time  she  found  anyone  capable  of  answering  the 
question.  Three  foreign  merchants  whom  she  over- 
took near  noon  could  give  her  no  information,  and  she 
covered  the  next  five  miles  without  seeing  a  living 
creature;  then  it  was  only  a  beggar,  who  crawled  out 
of  the  bushes  to  offer  to  sell  the  child  beside  him  for 
a  crust  of  bread.  The  petition  brought  back  to  Ran- 
dalin  her  own  famished  condition  so  sharply  that  her 
answer  was  unnecessarily  petulant,  and  the  man  dis- 
appeared before  the  question  could  even  be  put  to  him. 
Two  miles  more,  and  nothing  was  in  front  of  her  but 
a  flock  of  ragged  blackbirds  circling  over  a  trampled 
wheat-field.  Already  the  sun's  round  chin  rested  on 
the  crest  of  the  farthest  hill.  In  desperation,  she 
turned  aside  and  galloped  after  a  mailed  horseman 
who  was  trotting  down  a  clover-sweet  lane  with  a  rattle 
and  clank  that  frightened  the  robins  from  the  hedges. 
He  reined  in  with  a  guffaw  when  he  saw  what  mettle 
of  blade  it  was  that  had  accosted  him. 

"Is  it  your  intention  to  join  the  army?"  he  in- 
quired. "  Canute  will  consider  himself  in  great  luck." 

"I  am  desirous  to  —  to  tell  him  something,"  Red 
Cloak  faltered. 

35 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

His  grin  vanishing,  the  man  leaned  forward  alertly. 
"  Is  it  war  news?  Of  Edric  Jarl's  men?  " 

Before  her  tongue  could  move,  Randalin's  sur- 
prised face  had  answered.  The  warrior  smote  his 
thigh  resoundingly. 

"  You  will  be  able  to  tell  us  tidings  we  wish  to 
know.  Since  the  fight  this  morning  we  have  been  al- 
lowed to  do  no  more  than  growl  at  the  English  dogs 
across  the  plain,  because  it  was  held  unadvisable  to 
make  an  onset  until  the  Jarl's  men  should  increase 
our  strength.  It  is  to  be  hoped  they  are  not  far 
behind?  " 

"  You  make  a  mistake,"  Randalin  began  hesita- 
tingly. "  My  news  does  not  concern  the  doings  of 
Edric  Jarl,  but  the  actions  of  his  man  Norman  —  " 

A  blow  across  her  lips  silenced  her. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  until  you  come  in  to  the 
Chief,"  the  man  admonished  her,  with  good-humored 
severity.  "  Have  you  not  learned  that  babbling  turns 
to  ill,  you  sprouting  twig?  And  waste  no  more  time 
upon  the  road,  either.  Yonder  is  your  shortest  way,  — 
up  that  lane  between  the  barley.  When  you  come  to 
a  burned  barn,  do  you  turn  to  the  left  and  ride  straight 
toward  the  woods;  it  should  happen  that  an  old  beech 
stock  stands  where  you  come  out.  Take  then  the  path 
that  winds  up-hill,  and  it  will  bring  you  to  the  war 
booths  before  you  can  open  your  foolish  mouth  thrice. 
Trolls!  what  a  cub  to  send  a  message  by!  But  get 
along,  now;  you  will  suffer  from  their  temper  if  they 
think  it  likely  that  you  have  kept  them  waiting."  He 

36 


WHERE   WAR-DOGS    KENNEL 

gave  the  horse  a  stinging  slap  upon  the  flank,  that  sent 
him  forward  like  a  shaft  from  a  bow. 

Snatching  up  her  slackened  rein  with  one  hand, 
his  rider  managed  to  secure  her  leaping  cap  with  the 
other;  and  after  the  first  bounce,  she  caught  the  jerky 
gait  instinctively  and  swayed  her  body  into  its  uneven 
swing.  But  her  heart  was  all  at  once  a-throb  in  a  wild 
panic.  Was  this  what  a  boy  must  expect?  This  chal- 
lenging brutal  downrightness,  which  made  one  seem 
to  have  become  a  dog  that  must  prove  his  usefulness 
or  be  kicked  aside?  Her  spirit  felt  as  bruised  as  a 
fledgeling  fallen  upon  stony  ground.  She  shivered  as 
the  old  beech  stock  loomed  up  before  her. 

"  If  these  other  men  behave  so,  it  is  in  my  mind 
to  tell  them  that  I  am  a  woman,"  she  decided.  "  Since 
they  are  my  own  people,  no  evil  can  come  of  their 
knowing;  and  I  dislike  the  other  feeling." 

The  recollection  that  she  had  always  this  escape 
open  gave  her  a  new  lease  of  boldness.  Her  courage 
rose  as  fast  as  her  body  when  they  began  to  climb  the 
hillside  toward  the  ruddy  light  that  slanted  down  be- 
tween the  tree-trunks.  When  a  sentinel  stopped  her 
near  the  top,  she  faced  him  with  a  fairly  firm  front. 

"  I  have  war  news  for  King  Canute,"  she  told  him 
haughtily;  and  he  let  her  pass  with  no  more  than  a 
grin. 

The  camp  appeared  to  be  strung  through  the 
whole  beech  grove  that  covered  the  crest  of  the  hill. 
The  first  sign  of  it  began  less  than  ten  yards  beyond 
the  sentry,  where  a  couple  of  squatting  thralls  were 

37 


THE   WARD   OF    KING    CANUTE 

skinning  a  slain  deer;  and  as  far  as  eye  could  swim 
in  the  flood  of  sunset  light,  the  green  aisles  were  dotted 
with  scattered  groups.  Every  flat  rock  had  a  ring  of 
dice-throwers  bending  over  it;  every  fallen  trunk  its 
row  of  idlers.  Wherever  a  cluster  of  boulders  made 
a  passable  smithy,  crowds  of  sweating  giants  plied 
hammer  and  sharpening-stone.  The  edges  of  the  little 
stream  that  trickled  down  to  the  valley  were  thronged 
with  men  bathing  gaping  wounds  and  tearing  up  the 
cool  moss  to  staunch  their  flowing  blood.  Never  had 
the  girl  dreamed  of  such  chaos.  It  gave  her  the  feel- 
ing of  having  plunged  into  a  whirlpool.  She  threaded 
her  way  among  the  groups  as  silently  as  the  leaf-padded 
ground  would  permit. 

She  had  come  in  by  the  back  door,  but  now  she 
began  to  reach  the  better  quarters.  Her  nose  reported 
sooner  than  her  eyes  that  a  meal  was  in  making;  and 
a  glow  of  anticipation  braced  her  famished  body.  Here, 
in  this  green  alcove,  preparations  were  just  beginning; 
a  white-robed  slave  knelt  by  the  curling  thread  of 
smoke  and  nursed  the  flickering  flame  with  his  breath, 
while  his  circle  of  hungry  masters  pelted  him  with 
woolly  beech-nuts  and  cursed  his  slowness.  There,  a 
dozen  yards  to  the  left,  the  meal  was  nearly  over;  be- 
tween the  gnarled  trunks  the  fire  shone  like  a  red  eye; 
and  bursts  of  merriment  and  snatches  of  boisterous 
song  marked  the  beginning  of  the  drinking. 

Sometimes  a  woman's  lighter  laughter  would 
mingle  with  the  peal.  Sometimes,  through  the  sway- 
ing branches,  Randalin  caught  sight  of  the  flower-fair 

38 


WHERE   WAR-DOGS    KENNEL 

face  of  an  English  girl,  bending  between  the  shaggy 
yellow  heads  of  the  captors.  Once  she  came  upon  a 
brawny  Viking  employing  his  huge  fingers  to  twine  a 
golden  chain  around  a  white  throat.  The  girl's  face 
was  dimpling  bewitchingly  as  she  held  aside  her  shin- 
ing hair.  Randalin  had  an  impulse  of  triumph. 

"  I  wish  that  Sister  Wynfreda  could  see  that,  now, 
since  it  is  her  belief  that  Danes  are  always  overbearing 
toward  their  captives,"  she  told  herself.  "  This  one  has 
no  appearance  of  having  felt  blows  or  known  hard  labor. 
She  could  not  have  been  entertained  with  greater  liber- 
ality in  her  father's  house  —  " 

She  broke  off  suddenly,  as  the  words  suggested  a 
new  train  of  thought.  This  girl  must  have  been  driven 
from  her  father's  house  by  Danes,  even  as  she  herself 
had  been  driven  forth  by  the  English.  Yet  here  was 
she  eating  with  her  foes,  taking  gold  from  their  hands! 
Could  she  have  honor  who  would  thus  make  friends 
with  the  slayers  of  her  kin?  Randalin  watched  her 
wonderingly  until  leaves  shut  out  the  picture. 

Another  sentinel  hailed  her,  and  she  gave  him 
absently  her  customary  answer.  He  pointed  to  a  great 
striped  tent  of  red  and  white  linen,  adorned  with  flut- 
tering streamers  and  guarded  by  more  sentries  in  shin- 
ing mail ;  and  she  rode  toward  it  in  a  daze. 

More  revellers  sprawled  under  these  trees,  and  she 
looked  at  them  curiously.  The  women  here  did  not 
seem  to  be  amusing  themselves  so  well.  One  was 
weeping ;  and  one  —  a  slip  of  a  girl  with  a  face  like  a 
rose  —  was  trying  vainly  to  rise  from  her  place  beside 

39 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

a  drunken  warrior,  who  held  her  hands  and  strove  to 
pull  her  lips  down  to  his  wine-stained  mouth.  In  imagi- 
nation Randalin  felt  again  Norman's  arm  around  her 
waist,  and  a  wild  pity  was  quickened  in  her.  This 
was  worse  than  drudgery,  worse  than  blows!  For  the 
credit  of  Danish  warriors,  it  was  well  that  Sister  Wyn- 
freda  could  not  see  this. 

Again  her  own  words  raised  a  startling  apparition. 
What  had  been  the  Sister's  last  cry  of  warning?  "  It  is 
not  their  cruelty  I  fear  for  you.  Child,  listen!  It  is 
not  their  blows  —  "  Could  it  be  possible  that  this  was 
what  — 

Like  a  merciless  answer  came  a  scream  from  the 
girl,  —  a  short  piercing  cry  of  horror  and  loathing  and 
agonized  appeal  as  she  was  drawn  down  upon  the  leer- 
ing face.  At  that  cry,  childhood's  blind  trust  died  for- 
ever in  Randalin.  As  she  rode  past  the  pair,  with 
clenched  hands  and  flashing  eyes,  she  knew  without 
reasoning  that  tortures  would  not  tear  from  her  the 
secret  of  her  disguise. 

When  the  sentinel  before  the  tent  challenged  her 
roughly,  it  was  her  tongue,  not  her  brain,  that  an- 
swered him. 

"  I  have  war  news  for  the  King." 

In  a  twinkling  he  had  dropped  his  spear,  plucked 
her  from  her  saddle,  and  was  marching  her  toward  the 
entrance  by  her  collar. 

"  In  the  Troll's  name,  get  in  to  the  Chief,  and  let 
nothing  hinder  you !  "  he  growled.  "  From  your  snail's 
pace  I  got  the  idea  that  you  had  come  a-begging.  Get 

40 


WHERE   WAR-DOGS    KENNEL 

in,  and  set  your  tongue  wagging  as  speedily  as  you 
can!  Why  do  you  draw  back?  I  tell  you  to  make 
haste ! " 

Before  she  could  so  much  as  catch  her  breath,  he 
had  raised  the  tent-flap,  pushed  her  bodily  through  the 
entrance,  and  dropped  the  linen  door  behind  her. 


CHAPTER    IV 


WHEN    ROYAL   BLOOD   IS   YOUNG   BLOOD 

The  mind  only  knows 

What  lies  near  the  heart ; 

That  alone  is  conscious  of  our  affections. 

No  disease  is  worse 

To  a  sensible  man 

Than  not  to  be  content  with  himself. 

HAVAMAL. 

[HREE  richly  dressed  war- 
riors, clinking  golden  gob- 
lets across  a  table, — so  much 
jRandalin  caught  in  her  first 
glance.  On  the  spot  where 
the  sentinel  had  released 
her  she  stopped,  stock-still, 
and  with  eyes  bent  on  the 
ground  tremblingly  awaited 
'the  royal  attention. 
Clink-clank,  —  the  golden  goblet  lips  continued 
their  noisy  kissing.  The  hum  of  the  low-toned  voices 
droned  on  without  interruption.  Minute  after  minute 
dragged  by.  She  ventured  to  shift  her  weight  and  steal 
an  upward  glance. 

Her  first  thought  was  that  a  king's  tent  was  very 
like  a  trader's  booth.     Spears  and  banners  and  gold- 

42 


WHEN  ROYAL  BLOOD  IS  YOUNG  BLOOD 

bossed  shields  decorated  the  walls,  while  the  reed- 
strewn  ground  was  littered  with  furs  and  armor,  with 
jewelled  altar-cloths  and  embroidered  palls  and  wonder- 
ful gold-laced  garments.  The  rude  temporary  benches 
were  spread  with  splendid  covers  of  purple  and  green, 
upon  which  silver  lilies  and  gold-eyed  peacocks  had 
been  wrought  with  exquisite  skill.  And  the  rough- 
hewn  table  bore  such  treasures  as  plunderers  dream  of 
when  their  sleeping-bags  are  lying  the  most  comfort- 
ably, —  ivory  relique  caskets,  out  of  which  the  sacred 
bones  had  been  unceremoniously  turned,  gemmed 
chalices  from  earls'  feasting-halls,  and  amber  chains 
and  silver  mirrors  and  strings  of  pearls  from  their 
ladies'  bowers.  Randalin's  gaze  lingered,  dazzled, 
then  slowly  rose  to  examine  the  master  of  all  this 
wealth. 

He  was  not  so  easy  to  pick  out.  Of  the  three  men 
around  the  table,  only  one  was  a  graybeard;  and  of 
the  two  striplings  left,  either  might  have  been  the  son 
of  Sven  of  Denmark.  Both  were  finely  formed;  both 
were  dressed  with  royal  splendor,  and  the  hair  of  each 
fell  from  under  a  jewelled  circlet  in  uncut  lengths  of 
shining  fairness.  The  hair  of  the  shorter  one,  though, 
was  finer;  and  no  red  tainted  the  purity  of  its  gold. 
When  one  came  to  look  at  it,  it  was  like  a  royal  cloak. 
Perhaps  he  might  be  the  King!  She  wished  he  would 
raise  his  face  from  his  hands,  that  she  might  see  it. 
Then  she  noticed  that  his  shoulders  lacked  the  breadth 
of  his  companion's  by  as  much  as  a  palm's  width ;  and 
her  mind  wavered.  Surely  so  great  a  king  as  Canute 

43 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

must  be  broader-shouldered  than  any  of  his  subjects! 
This  youth  was  hardly  brawny  at  all ;  as  Vikings  went, 
he  was  even  slender.  She  turned  her  attention  to  the 
other  man.  He  was  big  enough,  certainly;  the  fist 
that  he  was  waving  in  the  air  was  like  nothing  so  much 
as  a  sledge-hammer,  and  there  was  a  likeness  to  the 
Jotuns  in  his  florid  coarse-featured  face. 

As  she  watched  it,  Randalin  felt  a  coldness  creep 
over  her.  His  great  jaws  were  like  the  jowl  of  a 
mastiff.  His  thick-lipped  mouth  —  what  was  it  that 
made  that  so  terrible,  even  in  smiling?  Watching  it 
with  the  fascination  of  terror,  it  occurred  to  her  to 
endow  him  with  the  appetite  of  the  drunken  warrior 
at  the  table  outside  the  tent.  Suppose,  just  as  they 
stood  now,  he  should  take  the  fancy  to  turn  and  kiss 
her  lips;  would  anything  stop  him?  In  the  drawing  of 
a  breath,  her  overwrought  nerves  had  painted  the  pic- 
ture so  clearly  that  she  was  sick  with  horror.  Sister 
Wynfreda's  red-hot  iron  would  not  keep  him  back,  in- 
stinct told  her.  That  sacrifice  of  beauty  had  not  been 
simple-minded;  it  had  been  the  one  alternative.  The 
girl's  light-hearted  boldness  went  from*  her  in  a  gasp. 
Her  shaking  limbs  gave  way  beneath  her,  so  that  she 
sank  on  the  nearest  bench  and  cowered  there,  panting. 

Though  the  men  were  too  intent  to  notice  her,  in 
some  sub-conscious  way  her  moving  seemed  to  rouse 
them.  Their  discussion  had  been  growing  gradually 
louder;  now  the  bearded  man  and  the  young  Jotun 
rose  suddenly  and  faced  their  companion,  whose  voice 
became  audible  in  an  obstinate  mutter, — 

44 


WHEN  ROYAL  BLOOD  IS  YOUNG  BLOOD 

"  Nevertheless,  I  doubt  that  it  was  wise  to  join 
hands  with  an  English  traitor." 

The  older  man  said  in  a  tone  of  slowly  gathering 
anger,  "  I  told  you  to  make  the  bargain,  and  I  stand  at 
the  back  of  my  counsels.  Have  you  become  like  the 
wind,  which  tries  every  quarter  of  the  sky  because  it 
knows  not  its  own  mind?  " 

While  the  young  man  warned  in  his  heavy  voice, 
"  You  will  have  your  will  in  this  as  in  everything, 
King  Canute;  but  I  tell  you  that  if  you  keep  the  bar- 
gain, you  will  act  against  my  advice." 

Randalin  had  been  mistaken  in  her  deductions. 
It  was  not  the  brawny  body  that  was  King  of  the 
Danes;  the  leader's  spirit  lodged  in  the  slender  frame 
of  the  youth  with  the  cloak  of  yellow  hair. 

He  raised  from  his  hands  now  a  face  of  boyish 
sullenness,  and  sat  glaring  over  his  clenched  fists  at 
his  counsellors. 

"  Certainly  it  would  become  a  great  misfortune  to 
me  if  I  should  act  against  the  advice  of  Rothgar  Lod- 
broksson,"  he  made  stinging  answer.  "  He  is  as  wise 
and  long-sighted  as  though  he  had  eaten  a  dragon's 
heart.  It  was  he  who  gave  me  the  advice,  when  the 
English  broke  faith,  to  vent  my  rage  upon  the  host- 
ages. Men  have  not  yet  ceased  to  lift  their  noses  at 
me  for  the  unkingliness  of  the  deed."  His  eyes  blazed 
at  the  memory.  They  were  not  pleasant  eyes  when  he 
was  angry;  the  blue  seemed  to  fade  from  them  until 
they  were  two  shining  colorless  pools  in  his  brown 
face. 

45 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

The  son  of  Lodbrok  shrugged  his  huge  shoulders 
in  stolid  resignation;  but  the  wrinkled  forehead  of  the 
older  man  became  somewhat  smoother.  There  was 
nothing  Jotun-like  about  his  long,  lean  features,  yet 
his  expression  was  little  pleasanter  on  that  account. 
From  under  his  lowering  shaggy  brows  he  appeared 
to  see  without  being  seen;  and  one  distrusted  his  hid- 
den eyes  as  a  traveller  in  the  open  distrusts  a  skulker 
in  the  thicket. 

He  said  in  his  measured  voice,  "  In  that  matter  my 
opinion  stands  with  Canute.  When  bloodshed  is  un- 
necessary, it  becomes  a  drawback.  Craft  is  greatly  to 
be  preferred.  One  does  not  cross  deep  snow  by  stamp- 
ing through  it  on  iron-shod  feet;  one  slides  over  it  on 
skees." 

Over  the  brown  fists,  the  fierce  bright  eyes  bent 
themselves  upon  him  in  his  turn.  The  biting  young 
voice  said,  "  It  is  likely  that  Thorkel  the  Tall  speaks 
from  experience.  It  stands  in  my  memory  how  well 
craft  served  him  when  he  had  deserted  my  father  for 
Ethelred  and  then  became  tired  of  the  Englishman. 
To  procure  himself  peace,  he  was  forced  to  creep  back 
to  my  feet  like  a  dog  that  has  been  kicked.  Was  there 
gold  enough  in  his  bribe  to  regild  his  fame?  " 

The  gnarled  old  face  of  Thorkel  the  Tall  grew 
livid;  growling  in  his  grizzled  beard,  his  hand  moved 
instinctively  toward  his  sword.  But  Rothgar  caught 
his  arm  with  a  boisterous  laugh. 

"Slowly,  old  wolf!"  he  admonished.  "Never  snarl 
at  the  snapping  of  the  cub  you  have  raised." 

46 


WHEN  ROYAL  BLOOD  IS  YOUNG  BLOOD 

The  King  had  not  moved  at  the  threatening  ges- 
ture, and  he  did  not  move  now,  but  he  echoed  the  laugh 
bitterly. 

"  In  that,  you  say  more  truth  than  you  know, 
foster-brother.  He  is  a  wolf,  and  I  am  a  wolf's  cub, 
and  you  are  no  better.  We  are  all  a  pack  of  ravening 
beasts,  we  Northmen,  that  have  no  higher  ambition 
than  to  claw  and  use  our  teeth.  Talk  of  high-minded- 
ness  to  such  —  bah ! "  He  flung  his  arms  apart  in 
loathing;  then,  in  a  motion  as  boyishly  weary  as  it 
was  boyishly  petulant,  crossed  them  on  the  table  be- 
fore him  and  pillowed  his  head  upon  them. 

His  companions  did  not  seem  to  be  unused  to  such 
outbursts.  Rothgar  appeared  to  find  it  more  amusing 
than  anything  else,  for  his  mouth  expanded  slowly  in 
a  grin.  A  snort  of  impatience  distended  the  nostrils  of 
Thorkel  the  Tall. 

"  At  such  times  as  these,"  he  said,  "  are  brought  to 
my  mind  the  words  of  Ulf  Jarl,  that  a  man  does  not 
really  stand  well  upon  his  legs  until  he  has  lived  twenty- 
five  winters." 

Up  came  the  young  King's  yellow  head.  There 
was  no  question  now  about  his  temper.  A  spot  of 
fiery  red  marked  each  cheek-bone,  and  his  colorless 
eyes  were  points  of  blazing  light. 

"  Better  is  it  to  stand  unsteadily  upon  two  legs 
than  to  go  naturally  upon  four,"  he  retorted.  "  If  I 
also  am  a  beast,  at  least  there  is  a  man's  mind  in  me 
that  tells  me  to  loathe  myself  for  being  so.  Even  as 
I  loathe  you  —  both  of  you  —  and  all  your  howling 

47 


THE   WARD   OF    KING   CANUTE 

pack!  Make  me  no  answer  or,  by  the  head  of  Odin, 
you  shall  feel  my  fangs!  You  say  that  my  will  is  like 
the  wind's  will.  Can  you  not  see  why,  dull  brutes  that 
you  are?  Because  it  is  not  my  will,  but  yours,  —  now 
Rothgar's  beast-fierceness,  now  your  low-minded  craft. 
Because  I  am  not  content  with  myself,  I  listen  to  you. 
And  you  —  you —  Oh,  leave  me,  leave  me,  before  I 
lose  my  human  nature  and  go  mad  like  a  dog!  Leave — 
You  laugh ! "  As  he  caught  sight  of  Rothgar,  he  inter- 
rupted himself  with  a  roar.  His  hand  shot  to  his  belt 
and  plucking  forth  the  jewelled  knife  that  hung  there, 
hurled  it,  a  glittering  streak,  at  the  grinning  face.  If 
it  had  reached  home,  one  of  Rothgar's  eyes  would  have 
gone  out  in  darkness. 

But  the  son  of  Lodbrok  had  known  his  royal  foster- 
brother  too  long  to  be  taken  by  surprise.  Throwing  up 
a  wooden  platter  like  a  shield,  he  caught  the  quivering 
blade  in  its  bottom,  whence  he  drew  it  forth  with  good- 
humored  composure. 

"  If  you  wish  to  give  a  friend  a  present,  King, 
you  should  not  throw  it  at  him  so  angrily,"  he  sug- 
gested. "  Had  you  given  me  the  sheath  too,  your  gift 
would  have  been  doubly  dear." 

The  fiery  spots  in  Canute's  cheeks  deepened  and 
spread.  He  turned  away  without  answering,  and  stood 
a  long  time  beating  his  fingers  on  the  table  in  a  sharp 
tattoo. 

What  does  it  mean,  the  pause  that  follows  the 
storm,  when  Nature's  accumulated  discontent  has 
vented  itself  in  a  passionate  outbreak?  The  trees 

48 


WHEN  ROYAL  BLOOD  IS  YOUNG  BLOOD 

stand  motionless,  with  hanging  heads;  the  blue  of  the 
clearing  sky  is  divinely  tender;  under  the  spangling 
drops,  the  flowers  look  up  like  tear-filled  eyes.  Does 
it  mean  repentance,  or  only  exhaustion? 

Gradually  the  color  flowed  back  to  the  young 
King's  eyes  and  softened  them ;  gradually  his  mouth  re- 
laxed from  its  fierce  lines  and  drooped  in  bitter  curves. 
When  at  last  his  fingers  stopped  their  nervous  beat,  it 
was  to  unfasten  the  sheath  of  chased  gold  which  was 
attached  to  his  waist,  and  stretch  it  out  to  Rothgar. 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  he  said  gravely.  "  It 
is  right  that  I  pay  some  fine;  I  have  a  troll's  temper. 
Take  the  sheath.  But  do  not  make  the  mistake  again 
of  laughing  at  me  because  you  cannot  understand  me. 
But  one  person  may  do  that  and  live;  and  that  person 
is  a  woman,  and  my  wife.  .  .  .  There  is  a  strange  feel- 
ing in  my  heart  that  we  have  begun  to  travel  different 
paths,  you  and  I,  —  and  that  it  is  because  we  no  longer 
walk  on  the  same  level  of  ground,  that  we  no  longer 
see  any  object  in  the  same  light.  .  .  .  And  my  mind 
tells  me  that  in  time  to  come  your  path  will  lead  you 
down  into  the  valley,  .  .  .  and  my  road  will  take  me 
up  the  mountain-side,  .  .  .  until  even  our  voices  shall 
no  longer  reach  across."  He  came  out  of  his  dreaming 
abruptly.  "  It  is  not  worth  while  to  speak  further.  I 
do  not  blame  my  foster-father  that  he  is  lifting  the 
corner  of  his  mouth  at  me.  And  you  —  you  think  I 
am  talking  in  my  sleep.  Leave  me,  as  I  ordered  you. 
There  is  no  unfriendliness  in  my  mind  at  this,  but  I 
can  command  myself  no  further.  Go." 

4  49 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

Rothgar  said,  with  some  approach  to  formal  courtesy, 
"  I  ask  you  to  pardon  it  that  I  have  done  what  you  dis- 
like, for  I  wish  that  the  least  of  all  the  world.  And  I 
give  you  thanks  for  your  gift."  Their  hands  clasped 
strongly  as  the  trinket  passed  from  grasp  to  grasp. 

Then  the  sage  and  the  soldier  turned  and  strode 
past  the  cowering  figure  of  Randalin  and  out  of  the 
linen  doorway. 


CHAPTER   V 


BEFORE    THE    KING 

Know  if  them  hast  a  friend 

Whom  thou  little  trustest 

Yet  wouldst  good  from  him  derive 

Thou  shouldst  speak  him  fair, 

But  think  craftily, 

And  leasing  pay  with  lying. 

HAVAM'AL. 

HEN   the   curtain  had   fal- 
len behind  his  advisers,  the 

I 

young  King  threw  himself 
back  upon  his  rude  high- 
seat  and  rested  motionless 
among  its  cushions,  his  head 
hanging  heavily  upon  his 
breast. 

Crouching  on  her  bench 
near  the  door,  Randalin 
watched  him  as  a  fly  caught  in  a  web  watches  the  ap- 
proaching spider.  She  had  forgotten  her  errand;  she 
had  forgotten  her  disguise;  she  had  forgotten  where 
she  was;  her  one  conscious  emotion  was  fear.  Her 
eyes  followed  his  roving  glance  from  spear  to  banner, 
from  floor  to  ceiling,  in  terrible  anticipation.  It  ap- 

5* 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

preached  her;  it  turned  aside;  it  passed  above  her, 
hesitated,  sank,  touched  her!  Ashen-white,  she  stag- 
gered to  her  feet  and  faced  him. 

A  lithe  boyish  figure  with  wide  boyish  eyes  and 
a  tanned  boyish  face,  —  Canute  gazed  incredulously ; 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  again. 

"  In  the  Troll's  name,  who  are  you? "  he  ejacu- 
lated. "How  came  you  here?" 

The  pale  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  from 
them. 

Their  fruitless  twitching  seemed  to  irritate  him. 
He  made  a  petulant  gesture  toward  the  half-filled  gob- 
let. "  Why  do  you  stand  there  making  mouths  ?  Drink 
that  and  get  a  man's  voice  into  your  throat,  if  you  have 
anything  to  say  to  me." 

"A  man's  voice!"  The  girl  stared  at  him.  "A 
man's  voice?  "  Then,  like  lungfuls  of  fresh  air,  it  en- 
tered into  her  that  she  was  not  really  the  naked  fledge- 
ling she  felt  herself.  She  was  in  the  toils,  surely,  but 
there  was  a  shell  around  her.  Glad  to  hide  her  face  for 
a  moment,  she  seized  the  goblet  and  drained  it  slowly 
to  the  last  drop.  If  only  she  could  remember  just  how 
Fridtjof  had  borne  himself !  As  she  swallowed  the  last 
mouthful,  a  recollection  came  to  her  of  the  thrall-women 
grumbling  over  Fridtjof's  wine-stained  tunics;  and  she 
carefully  drew  her  sleeve  across  her  mouth  as  she  set 
down  the  cup. 

Leaning  back  in  his  seat,  the  King  took  frowning 
measure  of  his  guest,  from  the  toe  of  her  spurred  riding- 
boot  to  the  top  of  the  green  cap  which  she  had  forgot- 

5» 


BEFORE   THE    KING 

ten  to  remove.  His  mood  seemed  wavering  between 
annoyance  and  amusement;  a  word  could  decide  the 
balance.  With  her  last  swallow  he  repeated  his 
challenge. 

"  Are  you  capable  now  of  giving  me  any  reason 
why  I  should  not  have  you  flogged  from  the  camp?  Is 
it  your  opinion  that  because  I  choose  to  behave  fool- 
ishly before  my  friends,  I  am  desirous  to  have  tale- 
bearing boys  listening?  " 

"  Boys  "  again !  Randalin's  sinking  spirit  rallied 
at  the  assurance  as  her  fainting  body  had  revived 
under  the  rich  warmth  of  the  mead. 

She  managed  to  stammer  out,  "  I  entreat  you  not 
to  be  angry,  Lord  King.  It  was  the  fault  of  the  man 
on  guard  that  I  came  in  as  I  did.  And  I  did  not  un- 
derstand six  of  the  words  you  spoke,  —  I  beseech  you 
to  believe  it." 

That  she  had  in  truth  been  too  frightened  for  in- 
telligent eavesdropping,  the  remaining  pallor  of  her 
face  made  it  easy  to  believe.  The  scales  tipped  ever  so 
little. 

"  Did  you  think  you  had  fallen  into  a  bear  pit?  " 
the  King  asked  with  a  faint  smile,  that  sharpened 
swiftly  to  bitterness.  "  After  all,  it  would  matter  little 
what  anyone  told  of  me.  Without  doubt  your  kin 
have  already  taught  you  to  call  me  thrall-bred  and  wit- 
less. Little  more  can  be  said." 

That  from  the, warrior  whose  foot  was  already 
planted  on  the  neck  of  England!  In  her  surprise, 
Randalin's  eyes  met  his  squarely.  "  By  no  means, 

S3 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

King  Canute;  my  father  called  you  the  highest-minded 
man  in  the  world." 

The  young  leader  flushed  scarlet,  flushed  till 
he  felt  the  burning,  and  averted  his  face  to  hide 
it.  He  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Many  things  have 
been  told  of  me  that  I  count  for  naught,  but  this  — 
this  has  not  been  said  of  me  before.  Tell  me  his 
name." 

"  He  was  called  Frode,  the  Dane  of  Avalcomb." 
The  red  mouth  trembled  a  little.  "  He  is  dead  now. 
He  was  slain  last  night,  by  Norman  Leofwinesson, 
who  is  Edric  Jarl's  thane." 

As  both  horseman  and  sentinel  had  started  at  that 
name,  so  now  the  King  straightened  into  alertness,  for- 
getting everything  else. 

"  Leofwinesson?  What  know  you  of  him  or  his 
Jarl?  Where  are  they?  When  saw  you  them?" 

"  Last  night ;  when  they  lay  drunk  in  my  father's 
castle  at  Avalcomb,  after  —  " 

"Avalcomb?  Near  St.  Alban's?  The  swine!" 
The  monarch  was  a  soldier  now,  shooting  his  ques- 
tions like  arrows.  "  After  I  bade  them  at  Gillingham 
come  straight  to  me!  How  many  were  they?  Where 
is  the  Jarl?  " 

"  He  was  not  with  them.  It  was  Norman  of 
Baddeby  who  led,  and  he  had  no  more  than  five-and- 
fifty  men.  It  was  spoken  among  them  that  they  would 
join  you  at  sunset  to-day  —  " 

Canute's  hand  shot  out  and  gripped  her  arm  and 
shook  it.  "  You  know  this  for  certain?  I  will  have 

54  • 


BEFORE   THE    KING 

your  tongue  if  you  lie  to  me!  You  are  sure  that 
they  intend  coming,  —  that  it  is  not  their  intention 
to  play  me  false  and  return  to  Edmund? "  His 
voice  was  stern,  his  gaze  mercilessly  direct.  An 
hour  before,  the  girl  would  have  shrunk  from  them 
both. 

One  can  learn  life-lessons  in  an  hour.  She  faced 
the  roughness  now  as  one  faces  a  rush  of  bracing  north 
wind.  "  I  know  what  I  heard  them  say,  Lord  King. 
They  said  that  Edric  Jarl  had  marched  on  to  St.  Alban's 
to  lie  there  over-night.  Leofwinesson  stopped  at  Aval- 
comb  because  he  wished  to  vent  his  spite  upon  my 
father.  It  was  their  intention  to  meet  at  the  city  gate 
at  noon  and  come  on  to  join  you.  They  will  be  here 
before  the  sun  is  set." 

Canute  released  her  arm  to  reach  for  his  goblet. 
"  I  wish  I  could  know  it  for  certain,"  he  muttered. 
"  But  it  is  as  the  saying  has  it,  '  Though  they  fight 
and  quarrel  among  themselves,  the  eagles  will  mate 
again.' "  He  looked  at  her  with  a  half-smile  as  he 
refilled  his  cup,  motioning  toward  the  other  flagon. 
"  Fill  up,  and  we  will  drink  a  toast  to  their  loyalty 
and  to  your  beard;  they  appear  to  be  equally  in  need 
of  encouragement."  Draining  it  off,  he  sat  staring 
down  into  the  dregs,  twirling  the  stem  thoughtfully 
between  his  fingers. 

By  the  time  she  had  shifted  her  weight  twice  for 
each  foot,  the  petitioner  ventured  to  recall  him. 

"  It  gives  me  some  hope,  to  hear  what  you  say 
about  suspecting  Edric  Jarl,"  she  said  timidly ;  "  for 

55 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

that  makes  it  appear  more  likely  that  you  will  be  will- 
ing to  give  me  justice  on  his  man." 

"Justice?"  The  King's  mind  came  back  to  her 
slowly,  as  from  an  immense  distance.  "  By  Thor,  I 
had  forgotten!  There  have  not  been  so  many  to  me 
on  that  errand.  .  .  .  Though  I  take  it  well  that  you 
should  trust  me.  .  .  .  Yes,  certainly;  I  will  be  king- 
like  once.  Stand  here  before  me,  while  I  question 
you." 

She  caught  her  breath  rather  sharply  as  she  stepped 
forward.  Would  she  be  able  to  tell  a  straight  story? 
She  stood  with  fingers  interlacing  nervously. 

"  Tell  me  first  how  you  are  called?  " 

"  I  am  called  Fridtjof  Frodesson." 

"  Frode  of  Avalcomb !  Now  I  know  where  I  have 
heard  that  name;  my  father  spoke  it  often,  and  always 
with  great  respect.  It  will  go  hard  with  me  if  I  must 
return  an  unfavorable  answer  to  his  son.  Tell  me  how 
his  death  was  brought  about." 

Randalin  thrust  the  sobs  back  from  her  throat ;  the 
tears  back  from  her  eyes.  Only  a  clear  head  could  de- 
liver her  out  of  the  snare.  She  began  slowly :  "  Leof- 
winesson  set  upon  him  last  night,  at  the  gate  of  the 
castle,  and  slew  him.  The  Englishman  had  long  been 
covetous  of  Avalcomb,  so  that  even  his  fear  of  you  was 
not  so  great  as  his  greed.  He  had  five-and-fifty  men, 
and  my  father  but  twelve  —  besides  me;  he  —  we  — 
had  just  come  in  from  hunting.  Then  he  rode  over  my 
father's  body  into  the  castle."  She  stopped  uncertainly 
to  glance  at  her  listener. 

56 


BEFORE   THE   KING 

The  brightness  of  his  eyes  startled  her,  though  they 
were  not  turned  in  her  direction.  They  were  blazing 
down  into  the  cup  that  he  was  turning  and  pinching 
between  his  fingers.  He  said,  half  as  though  to  him- 
self :  "  Vermin !  What  would  I  give  if  I  might  take 
them  in  my  teeth  and  shake  them  like  the  filth-fed  rats 
they  are !  Ten  hundred  such  do  not  reach  the  value  of 
one  finger  of  a  warrior  like  Frode!  I  knew  that  the 
fetters  of  Thorkel's  craftiness  would  pinch  me  some- 
where— "  He  broke  off  and  flung  the  goblet  from 
him,  burying  his  hands  in  his  yellow  hair.  "  How  I 
hate  them ! "  he  breathed  between  his  teeth.  "  How 
I  hate  their  smooth-tongued  Jarl,  and  all  their  treach- 
erous hides!  Oh,  for  the  day  when  I  no  longer  need 
their  aid ;  when  I  am  free  to  strike !  "  The  joy  of  his 
face  was  a  terrible  thing  to  hold  in  one's  memory. 

Perhaps  he  saw  its  awfulness  reflected  in  the  wide 
blue  eyes,  for  he  checked  himself  abruptly.  When  he 
spoke  again,  he  had  himself  well  in  hand. 

"  I  act  like  a  fool  to  let  you  hear  my  ravings. 
Poor  cub!  it  is  likely  you  will  call  me  a  worse  name 
when  you  find  out  how  I  am  hindered !  Yet  go  on  and 
tell  me  the  rest.  How  comes  it  that  you  escaped 
unharmed?  " 

With  Gram's  experience  to  follow,  it  was  not  hard 
to  frame  that  answer.  "  They  knocked  me  on  the  head 
with  a  spear-butt  and  left  me  for  dead.  When  I  got 
my  senses  again,  I  found  my  way  to  the  nuns  of  St. 
Mildred's ;  and  they  gave  me  food,  and  I  rode  hither." 

"It  is  the  Troll's  luck!  I  — yet,  go  on.  The  day 
57 


THE   WARD    OF   KING    CANUTE 

will  come!  Did  they  further  harm  within  the  castle? 
Have  you  women-kin?  " 

Randalin  hesitated.  Would  it  not  be  safer  if  she 
could  deny  altogether  the  existence  of  a  daughter  of 
Frode?  But  no,  that  was  not  possible,  in  the  face  of 
what  Norman  might  reveal.  She  began  very,  very 
carefully :  "  It  happened  that  my  mother  died  before 
we  came  to  Avalcomb;  and  my  father  had  but  one 
daughter.  She  was  called  Randalin.  I  did  not  see 
what  became  of  her,  for  I  was  outside ;  but  I  think  that 
she  is  dead.  A  —  her  thrall-woman  told  me  that  Leof- 
winesson  pursued  her  to  a  chamber  in  the  wall.  And 
—  and  because  she  could  not  escape  from  him  —  she  — 
she  threw  herself  from  the  window,  and  the  stones 
below  caused  her  death." 

The  King's  hands  clenched  convulsively.  "  It  is 
like  them !  "  he  muttered.  "  It  has  happened  as  I  sup- 
posed. If  the  master  be  like  his  men,  I  ask  you  in 
what  their  God  is  to  be  preferred  to  ours?  Have  no 
fear  but  that  I  will  avenge  your  kinswoman.  Those  of 
her  own  blood-ties  could  do  no  more.  And  Frode  also. 
You  need  not  wait  long  for  me  when  the  day  comes; 
the  last  hair  of  the  otter-skin  shall  be  covered,  though 
I  take  from  them  the  Ring  itself.  You  shall  see !  Have 
patience,  and  you  shall  see !  " 

Upon  burning  ears  the  word  "  patience "  falls 
coldly. 

"  Patience !  "  the  child  of  Frode  repeated. 

Perhaps  in  days  gone  by  the  young  King  himself 
had  rebelled  at  the  tyranny  of  that  word.  Perhaps  the 

58 


BEFORE   THE   KING 

smart  of  its  scourge  was  still  upon  him.  He  put  forth 
a  kindly  hand  and  drew  the  boy  down  beside  him. 

"  Listen,  young  one,"  he  said,  "  and  do  not  blame 
me  for  what  I  cannot  help.  Had  I  come  hither  only  to 
get  property  and  go  away  again,  as  Northmen  before 
me  have  come,  it  would  not  matter  to  me  whom  I 
killed,  and  I  would  slay  Leofwinesson  more  gladly 
than  I  would  eat ;  may  the  Giant  take  me  if  I  lie !  But 
I  have  come  to  the  Island  to  set  up  my  seat-pillars  and 
get  myself  land.  I  think  no  one  guesses  how  much  I 
have  the  ambition  at  heart;  even  to  me  it  appears  a 
strange  wonder.  But  it  is  true  that  I  look  upon  the 
fair  rolling  meadows  with  such  eyes  of  love  that  when 
it  is  necessary  that  I  should  set  fire  to  them,  it  is  as 
though  I  had  laid  the  torch  to  my  hair.  And  because 
of  that,  in  order  that  I  be  not  kept  destroying  them 
until  they  are  not  worth  the  having,  I  have  made  a 
bargain  with  Edric  Jarl,  who  is  dissatisfied  with  his 
king,  that  we  are  to  support  each  other  in  the  game. 
There  it  is  all  open  to  you.  Leofwinesson  is  the  man 
of  Edric.  Until  such  time  as  I  get  the  kingship  firmly 
in  my  hands,  it  would  be  unadvisable  for  me  to  reckon 
with  him  though  he  had  slain  my  foster-brother.  You 
see?  It  is  the  way  the  Fates  order  things.  I  must 
submit  to  them,  though  I  am  a  king.  Can  you  not, 
then,  bend  your  head  without  shame,  and  wait  with 
me?" 

Reasoning  was  lost  on  Randalin.  The  bitterness 
of  failure  had  swept  over  her  and  maddened  her.  Was 
she  mistaken,  then,  about  everything?  Could  those 

59 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

trembling  old  women  behind  the  broken  wall  read  the 
world  like  witches?  Was  everyone  false  or  a  beast? 
Oh,  how  her  father  had  been  wronged!  She  shook  off 
the  King's  hand  and  faced  him  with  blazing  eyes,  seek- 
ing for  words  that  should  bite  like  her  thoughts.  Then 
she  became  conscious  that  a  word  would  precipitate  a 
flood  of  hysterical  tears,  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  her 
warrior  kin.  All  that  was  left  for  her  was  to  get  away 
without  speaking.  Out  in  the  woods  there  would  be 
no  one  to  see;  and  the  grass  would  hide  the  quiver- 
ing of  her  lips.  She  put  up  her  hand  now  to  hide  it 
and,  struggling  to  her  feet,  began  groping  toward  the 
door. 

She  did  not  stop  when  Canute's  voice  called  after 
her,  —  not  until  she  had  reached  the  entrance,  and  the 
rattle  of  crossing  spears,  without,  had  told  her  that  her 
way  was  barred.  Then  she  whirled  back  with  a  sharp 
cry. 

"  Let  me  go !  I  hate  you !  Let  me  go !  " 
He  did  not  bid  his  guards  kill  her,  as  she  half  ex- 
pected. Instead,  he  said  patiently,  "  I  foresaw  that  you 
would  take  it  ill;  there  is  the  greatest  excuse  for  you. 
In  your  place  I  should  be  equally  unruly.  Indeed,  there 
is  a  likeness  about  our  luck,  which  causes  my  heart  to 
go  out  to  you  as  it  has  done  to  no  one  else.  I  will  grant 
your  boon  in  time  to  come;  so  sure  as  I  live,  I  will. 
And  until  then,  since  all  your  stock  has  been  cut  off, 
I  will  be  your  guardian  and  you  shall  be  my  ward,  as 
though  you  were  my  own  brother.  Come,  sit  here,  and 
I  will  tell  you." 

60 


BEFORE   THE   KING 

She  repulsed  him  sharply.  "  No,  no,  you  shall  do 
nothing  for  me!  I  am  going  back.  I  ask  you  to  let 
me  go." 

"  Let  you  go,  to  starve  under  a  hedge?  " 

"  I  shall  not  starve ;    Avalcomb  is  mine." 

"  What  food  will  that  put  in  your  mouth,  since 
Leofwinesson  has  conquered  it  and  driven  out  your 
servants  and  set  his  own  in  their  place  ?  " 

Her  heart  sickened  within  her.  Once  more  the 
impulse  came  to  creep  away,  like  a  wounded  animal, 
and  fight  it  out  alone.  She  turned  again  to  the  door. 

"  I  will  starve,  then.    Let  me  go." 

Leaning  at  his  ease  in  the  great  chair,  the  young 
King  regarded  his  ward  thoughtfully. 

"  It  is  not  possible  that  the  son  of  Frode  the  Fear- 
less should  be  a  coward,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  but  you  are 
over-peevish,  boy.  That  you  have  never  known  gov- 
ernment is  easily  seen.  Listen  now  to  the  truth  of  the 
matter.  If  you  were  a  maiden,  it  would  be  easy  for  me 
to  —  Are  you  listening  ?  "  He  paused,  for  the  slim 
figure  had  suddenly  become  so  statue-like  that  he  sus- 
pected it  of  plotting  another  attack  upon  the  door. 

The  boy  answered  very  low,  "  Yes,  Lord  King,  I 
am  listening." 

Canute  went  on  again :  "  I  say  that  if  you  were  a 
maiden,  —  if  you  were  your  sister,  to  tell  it  shortly,  — 
I  could  easily  dispose  of  you  in  marriage.  Thus  would 
you  get  protection,  and  your  father's  castle  would  gain 
a  strong  arm  to  fight  for  it.  I  would  wed  you  to  my 
foster-brother,  Rothgar  Lodbroksson,  and  thus  bring 

61 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

good  to  both  of —     Are  you  finding  fault  with  that 
also?" 

But  the  lad  stood  before  him  like  a  stone.  If  a 
faint  cry  had  come  from  him,  it  was  not  repeated ;  and 
there  was  nothing  offensive  about  a  hidden  face  and 
shaking  limbs. 

The  King  continued  more  gently :  "  But  since  you 
were  so  simple  as  to  be  born  a  boy,  such  good  luck  is 
not  to  be  expected.  It  is  the  best  that  I  can  do  to  offer 
you  to  become  my  ward  and  follow  me  as  my  page, 
until  the  sword's  game  has  decided  between  me  and 
Edmund  of  England.  But  I  do  not  know  where  your 
ambition  is  if  that  does  not  content  you.  There  are 
lads  in  Denmark  who  would  give  their  tongues  for  the 
chance.  What  say  you,  Fridtjof  the  Bold?  " 

For  a  time  it  looked  as  if  "  Fridtjof  the  Bold  "  did 
not  know  what  to  say.  He  stood  without  raising  his 
hanging  head  or  moving  a  muscle.  Silence  filled  the 
tent,  while  from  outside  leaked  in  the  noise  of  the 
revel.  Then,  through  that  noise  or  above  it,  there 
became  audible  the  notes  of  far-away  horns.  Edric 
Jarl  was  fulfilling  his  pledge.  Cheers  answered  the 
blast.  An  exclamation  broke  from  the  King's  lips, 
and  he  leaped  up.  At  that  moment,  "  Fridtjof  the 
Bold  "  fell  at  his  feet  with  clasped  hands  and  suppli- 
cating eyes. 

"  Let  me  go,  Lord  King,"  he  besought  passion- 
ately. "  Let  me  go,  and  I  will  ask  nothing  further  of 
you.  I  will  never  trouble  you  again.  Let  me  go !  — 
only  let  me  go !  " 

62 


BEFORE   THE   KING 

Canute  of  Denmark  is  not  to  be  blamed  that  he 
stamped  with  exhausted  patience. 

"  Go  into  the  hands  of  the  Trolls ! "  he  swore. 
And  again,  "  In  the  Fiend's  name !  "  And  at  last, 
"  By  the  head  of  Odin,  it  would  serve  you  well  did  I 
take  you  at  your  word!  It  would  serve  you  right  did 
I  turn  you  out  to  starve.  Were  it  not  for  your  father's 
sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  my  own  honor,  I  vow  I  would ! 
Now  hearken  to  this."  Bending,  he  picked  the  boy  up 
by  his  collar  and  shook  him.  "  Listen  now  to  this,  and 
understand  that  you  cannot  move  me  by  the  breadth  of 
a  hair.  I  shall  not  let  you  go,  and  you  shall  be  my 
ward,  whether  you  will  or  no.  And  if  you  run  away, 
soldiers  shall  go  after  you  and  bring  you  back,  as  often 
as  you  run.  And  if  you  answer  me  now  or  anger  me 
further  —  but  I  will  not  say  that,  for  it  is  your  mis- 
fortune that  makes  you  unruly,  and  you  are  weak- 
spirited  from  hunger.  Take  this  bread  now  for  your 
meal,  and  that  bench  yonder  for  your  bed,  and  trouble 
me  no  more  to-night.  I  would  not  be  hard  upon  you, 
yet  it  would  be  advisable  for  you  to  remember  that  I 
have  sufficient  temper  for  one  tent.  Go  as  I  bid  you. 
I  must  meet  with  the  Jarl.  Go!  Do  you  heed  my 
orders?  " 

Only  one  answer  was  possible.  After  a  moment 
the  page  gave  it  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,  Lord  King,"  he  whispered,  and  crept  away 
to  his  corner. 


CHAPTER   VI 


THE  TRAINING   OF   FRIDTJOF   THE   PAGE 

A  foolish  man 
Is  all  night  awake, 
Pondering  over  everything ; 
He  then  grows  tired, 
And  when  morning  comes 
All  is  lament,  as  before. 

HAVAMAL. 

HO  that  has  youth  and  a 
healthy  body  is  not  made 
a  new  being  by  a  night  of 
dreamless  slumber?  What 
young  heart  is  so  despair- 
ing that  to  waken  into  a 
fair  day  does  not  bring 
courage?  Wakened  by  the 
sun's  caress,  to  the  morning 
song  of  blowing  trees,  Ran- 
dalin  faced  her  future  as  became  the  kinswoman  of 
warriors. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  it  was  that  fear  crept  into  my 
breast  last  night,"  she  told  herself  severely,  when  the 
first  wave  of  strangeness  and  grief  had  broken  over 
her,  and  she  had  come  up  again  into  the  sparkling  air. 
"  Great  dangers  have  threatened  me,  but  I  have  escaped 

64 


THE  TRAINING  OF  FRIDTJOF  THE  PAGE 

them  all  with  great  luck;  it  is  poor-spirited  of  me  to 
despair.  And  it  must  be  that  witches  had  thinned  my 
blood  with  water  that  I  should  have  thought  of  run- 
ning away.  To  do  that  would  be  to  lose  my  revenge 
forever.  I  should  become  a  creature  without  honor, 
like  the  girl  with  the  necklace.  To  stay  is  no  less  than 
my  duty.  If  I  think  all  the  time  Of  Fridtjof,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  I  can  hide  it  that  I  am  a  girl."  Turning  in 
her  furry  bed,  she  rose  cautiously  upon  her  elbow  and 
looked  about. 

The  tent  was  empty,  though  scattered  furs  along 
the  benches  showed  where  sleepers  might  have  rested. 
But  from  outside,  a  clatter  of  hurrying  feet  and  ex- 
cited voices  broke  suddenly  upon  her.  Did  it  mean 
a  battle?  She  sat  up,  straining  eye  and  ear.  The 
jubilant  voices  shouted  greetings  that  just  missed 
being  intelligible.  The  sun,  glancing  from  moving 
weapons,  flashed  through  the  doorway  in  fantastic 
shapes. 

While  she  was  trying  to  unravel  it  all,  one  pair  of 
the  hurrying  feet  halted  before  the  entrance.  After  a 
muttered  word  with  the  sentinel,  they  came  on  and 
brought  the  son  of  Lodbrok  into  view. 

The  girl  started  up  with  a  gasp  of  alarm,  then 
made  the  strange  discovery  that  she  was  no  longer 
afraid  of  him.  Though  he  showed  against  the  linen 
wall  as  brawny  and  big  of  jowl  as  he  had  loomed  up 
the  night  before,  she  found  herself  moved  only  to  dis- 
like. What  had  been  the  matter  last  night?  Under- 
standing nothing  of  the  clairvoyant  power  of  sharp- 

5  65 


ened  nerves,  she  set  it  down  to  cowardice,  and  put  on 
an  extra  swagger  now  as  her  eyes  met  his. 

Rothgar  surveyed  the  sprig  of  defiance  with  no 
more  than  a  perfunctory  interest.  "  It  seems  that  you 
are  the  son  of  Frode  the  Dane,"  he  said  in  his  heavy 
voice.  "  Frode  was  a  mighty  raven-feeder ;  for  his 
sake  I  am  going  to  support  you  until  you  can  go  well 
on  your  legs.  Have  you  had  anything  to  eat?  " 

As  she  shook  her  head,  Randalin's  heart  rather 
softened  toward  him.  But  it  hardened  again  when  the 
thralls  had  brought  the  food,  and  he  had  sat  down  and 
begun  to  share  it.  Seen  in  a  strong  light,  his  rich  tunic 
proved  to  be  foul  with  beer  stains,  while  his  great 
hands  reeked  with  grease.  His  thick  lips,  his  heavy 
breathing  —  bah,  he  was  revolting!  Before  she  had 
finished  the  meal,  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  hated  him. 

Perhaps  it  was  as  well  that  there  was  something 
to  add  firmness  to  her  bearing.  As  he  swallowed  his 
last  mouthful  of  food,  Rothgar  said  abruptly,  "  Canute 
has  put  your  training  into  my  hands.  It  is  his  will  that 
I  find  out  how  much  skill  you  have  with  weapons." 

It  was  nothing  more  than  she  should  have  ex- 
pected, yet  it  came  upon  her  with  the  suddenness  of  a 
blow.  She  could  only  stammer,  "  Weapons  ?  " 

The  Jotun's  voice  rumbled  hideously  as  he  talked 
into  his  goblet.  "  Have  you  the  accomplishment  to 
wield  a  battle-axe  or  throw  a  spear?  Can  you  shoot 
straight?  " 

"No,"  she  faltered. 

66 


THE  TRAINING  OF  FRIDTJOF  THE  PAGE 

He  rolled  his  eyes  around  at  her  as  he  threw  back 
his  head  to  catch  the  last  drop  that  clung  to  the  golden 
rim.  "  Can  you  handle  a  sword?  " 

Randalin  hesitated,  uncertain  how  far  her  idle  play 
at  fencing  with  her  brother  would  bear  her  out;  she 
provided  as  many  loop-holes  as  she  could  devise.  "  I 
think  you  will  find  my  skill  slight.  I  have  —  I  have 
grown  so  fast  that  I  lack  strength  in  my  arms.  And  I 
have  not  exercised  myself  as  much  as  I  should  have 
done." 

"  It  is  in  my  mind  that  you  have  been  a  lazy  cub," 
the  warrior  pronounced  deliberate  sentence,  as  he  set 
down  his  goblet.  "  It  is  easily  seen  that  Frode  has 
been  over-gentle  with  you.  But  you  will  pay  now 
for  your  laziness,  by  receiving  a  cut  each  time  I  pass 
your  guard.  Stand  forth,  and  show  what  your  skill  is 
worth.  This  sword  will  not  be  too  heavy."  Selecting 
the  smallest  of  the  jewelled  blades  upon  the  floor,  he 
thrust  it  into  her  hands. 

It  is  good  to  have  in  one's  veins  the  liquid  fire  of 
the  North,  blood  to  which  the  presence  of  peril  is  like 
the  touch  of  the  Ice  King  to  water.  At  the  first  clash 
of  the  blades,  strange  tingling  fires  began  to  flash 
through  Randalin,  —  and  then  a  hardness,  that  burnt 
while  it  froze.  The  first  pass,  her  hands  had  parried 
seemingly  by  their  own  instinct;  now  she  flung  back 
her  tumbling  curls  and  proceeded  to  give  those  hands 
the  aid  of  her  eyes.  They  were  marvellously  quick 
eyes;  for  Fridtjof's  thrusts,  consulting  no  rule  but  his 
own  will,  had  required  lightning  to  follow  them  and 

67 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

something  like  mind-reading  to  anticipate  them.  Three 
times  her  blade  met  Rothgar's  squarely,  and  deftly 
turned  it  aside.  The  big  warrior  gave  a  grunt  of  ap- 
proval and  tried  a  more  complicated  pass.  Her  back- 
ward leap,  the  sudden  doubling  of  her  body,  and  the 
excited  clawing  of  her  free  hand,  were  not  graceful 
swordsmanship,  certainly,  but  her  steel  was  in  the 
right  place.  The  next  instant,  she  even  drew  a  little 
clink  from  one  of  the  Jotun's  silver  buttons. 

As  she  was  recovering  herself,  she  felt  something 
like  a  pin  prick  her  wrist;  and  she  wondered  vaguely 
what  brooch  had  become  unfastened.  But  she  gave  it 
scant  attention  for  the  big  blade  was  threatening  her 
from  a  new  direction.  She  leaped  to  meet  it,  and  for 
the  next  minute  was  kept  turning,  twisting,  dodg- 
ing, till  her  breath  began  to  come  in  gasps,  and  her 
exhausted  hand  to  relax  its  hold.  Her  weapon 
was  almost  falling  from  it  by  the  time  the  son  of 
Lodbrok  lowered  his  point.  Imitating  him,  she  stood 
leaning  on  her  sword,  making  futile  gasps  after  her 
lost  breath. 

A  grin  slowly  wrinkled  his  face  as  he  watched 
her.  "  It  appears  that  one  who  is  no  bigger  around 
than  a  willow  twig  may  be  capable  of  a  berserk  rage," 
he  said.  "  Do  you  not  feel  it  that  you  are  wounded?  " 

Following  his  eyes  down  to  her  hand,  she  found 
blood  trickling  from  her  sleeve.  Oh,  and  pain!  Now 
that  she  had  wakened  to  it  —  pain!  pricking,  stinging, 
stabbing.  Dropping  her  sword,  she  caught  at  her 
wrist. 

68 


THE  TRAINING  OF  FRIDTJOF  THE  PAGE 

"  How  did  it  happen?  I  thought  a  pin  had  pricked 
me!" 

Roaring  with  laughter,  he  caught  her  under  the 
arms  and  tossed  her  in  the  air. 

"A  pin!"  he  shouted.  "A  pin!  That  is  Frode 
himself!  A  beard  on  your  chin,  and  you  also  will  be 
a  feeder  of  wolves !  For  that  you  shall  have  a  share  in 
the  battle.  I  swear  it  by  the  hilt  of  the  Hanger !  " 

For  the  moment,  the  girl  forgot  her  wound  and 
hung  limp  in  the  great  hands.  "The  battle?"  she 
gasped.  "I  — I  fight?" 

Roaring  afresh,  the  Jotun  gave  her  another  jubi- 
lant toss.  "  You  blustering  field-mouse !  Showing  your 
teeth  already?  Who  knows?  If  you  meet  a  blind  Eng- 
lishman without  a  weapon,  you  may  even  kill  him. 
Here,"  he  tumbled  her  roughly  to  the  ground,  "  tie 
up  your  pin-scratch  and  then  come  after  me.  I  must 
go  up  yonder  to  Canute,  under  the  oak  tree.  If  you  are 
too  tired  to  wield  the  sword,  tie  your  hand  to  the  hilt, 
and  no  man  shall  have  a  better  will  to  do  harm  to  the 
English.  Frode  the  Dane  will  experience  great  pride 
when  he  looks  out  of  Valhalla  to-day."  Putting  out 
one  great  hand,  he  patted  her  soft  curls  as  though 
she  were  some  shaggy  dog,  then  hurried  out  to  his 
chief. 

It  was  a  respite  to  be  alone,  and  she  accepted  it 
gratefully,  sinking  among  the  cushions  with  closed  eyes 
and  a  hand  on  her  throbbing  wrist.  But  it  was  only  a 
respite;  she  never  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of  that. 
The  battle  must  be  faced,  and  faced  boldly.  One  word 

69 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

of  reluctance  would  be  the  surest  betrayal  of  her  secret. 
And  betrayal  meant  —  Rothgar !  She  shivered  as  she 
fancied  she  still  felt  his  greasy  touch  upon  her  hair. 
To  become  his  property  that  he  might  even  kiss !  With 
a  gasp  of  relief,  she  turned  her  thoughts  back  to  the 
battle. 

After  all,  it  was  not  unthinkable.  Her  riding  would 
never  betray  her;  and  in  the  confusion,  who  would  no- 
tice whether  or  not  she  used  her  sword?  She  did  grow 
a  little  cold  as  the  possibility  of  being  killed  occurred 
to  her;  but  even  that  darkness  gave  birth  to  a  light. 
Being  dressed  in  man's  garments,  it  was  likely  that  the 
Valkyrias  would  mistake  her  for  a  boy;  if  she  bore 
herself  bravely,  it  was  possible  that  they  might  carry 
her  up  to  Valhalla.  Should  she  once  reach  her  father's 
arms,  he  would  not  let  Odin  himself  drive  her  forth. 
The  hot  tears  gathered  under  her  lids.  If  only  she 
could  get  to  her  father!  He  would  be  glad  to  see  her, 
and  he  would  be  proud  of  her;  Rothgar  himself  had 
said  it.  Even  Fridtjof  would  not  be  ashamed  that  she 
had  borne  his  name.  She  must  be  very  careful  about 
that,  she  realized  suddenly.  He  had  never  known  what 
the  word  "  fear "  meant ;  even  in  Valhalla  he  would 
turn  from  her,  should  she  disgrace  him.  It  would  be- 
come an  unheard-of  wickedness  to  borrow  a  name  from 
the  helpless  dead  if  you  could  not  wear  it  worthily. 
Her  conscience  smote  her  now,  for  her  shirking,  and 
she  struggled  to  her  feet. 

None  too  soon;  above  the  outside  din  a  horn 
clarioned,  loud  and  clear.  Through  the  hush  that  fol- 

70 


THE  TRAINING  OF  FRIDTJOF  THE  PAGE 

lowed  could  be  heard  the  voice  of  Canute,  assigning 
their  positions  to  the  different  bands. 

"  I  and  my  kinsman,  Ulf  Jarl,  shall  be  foremost. 
To  the  right  of  my  standard  Edric  Jarl  shall  stand, 
and  the  men  with  whom  he  joined  us.  He  shall  have 
another  standard.  To  the  left  of  my  bodyguard  shall 
stand  the  men  of  Eric  of  Norway.  Friends  and  kins- 
men shall  stand  together.  There  each  will  defend  the 
other  best." 

Then  Rothgar's  harsh  voice  sounded,  shouting  her 
name,  —  Fridtjof's  name.  Giving  her  scarf  a  hasty 
twist  about  her  arm,  she  knotted  it  with  her  teeth ;  and 
seizing  the  sword  in  her  little  brown  hand  clotted  with 
her  own  blood,  she  ran  out  into  the  tumult. 

44* 


CHAPTER   VII 


THE  GAME  OF   SWORDS 

It  is  better  for  the  brave  man 
Than  for  the  coward 
To  join  in  the  battle. 
It  is  better  for  the  glad 
Than  for  the  sorrowing 
In  all  circumstances. 

FAFNISMAL. 

T  would  have  been  a  dull 
[soul  that  would  not  have 
been  stirred  by  a  sight  of 
he  Danish  camp.  The  host 
was  like  a  forest  of  mighty 
trees  tossing  and  swaying 
before  the  approach  of  a 
storm.  Lines  of  moving 
elms  shot  lightning  flashes 
through  the  dusk  of  the 
shady  grove;  while  the  hundreds  of  jubilant  voices 
blended  into  rumbling  thunder.  Through  the  tumult, 
the  blaring  horns  thrilled  like  pulse-beats. 

Flaring  crimson  under  her  brown  skin,  Randalin's 
Viking  blood  leaped  to  answer  the  call.  For  Rothgar's 
shout  she  gave  another,  and  laughed  out  of  sheer  de- 
light when  he  tossed  her  upon  the  back  of  a  pawing 

72 


THE   GAME   OF    SWORDS 

horse.  Away  with  woman's  fears!  The  world  was  a 
grand  brave  place,  and  men  a  race  of  heroes.  To  ride 
by  their  sides,  and  share  their  mighty  deeds,  and  see 
their  glory,  —  what  keener  joy  had  life  to  offer?  Away 
with  fear,  with  foreboding!  The  present  was  all-glori- 
ous, and  there  would  be  no  to-morrow. 

Shrill  and  clear  from  the  opposite  hill  came  the 
notes  of  the  English  horns,  as  down  the  green  slope 
moved  the  ranks  of  English  bowmen.  The  hum  of 
Danish  voices  sank  in  a  breathless  hush;  through  the 
stillness,  Tovi,  the  royal  bannerman,  galloped  to  his 
post.  A  rustle,  a  boom,  and  the  great  standard  was 
unfurled,  giving  to  the  breeze  the  dread  Raven  of 
Denmark.  Anxious  eyes  scanned  its.  mien;  should 
it  hang  motionless,  drooping  —  but  no^it  soared  like 
a  living  bird!  Exultation  burst  from  a  thousand 
throats. 

Down  the  line  came  the  young  King  upon  his 
white  war-horse,  clad  for  the  battle  as  for  a  feast.  The 
sun  at  noonday  is  not  more  fiercely  bright  than  was  his 
face.  His  long  locks  flowed  behind  him  on  the  wind 
like  tongues  of  yellow  flame;  and  like  northern  lights 
in  a  blue  northern  sky,  the  leader's  fire  flashed  in  his 
eyes.  So  Balder  the  Beautiful  might  have  come  among 
the  Jotuns.  So  the  brawny  sweating  hard-breathing 
giants  might  have  jostled  and  crowded  toward  him, 
expectant,  adoring. 

As  he  came,  he  was  calling  out  terrible  reminders: 
words  that  were  to  the  ears  of  his  champing  host  what 
the  smell  of  blood  is  to  the  nostrils  of  wolves. 

73 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Free  men,  true  men,  remember  that  ye  face  oath- 
breakers  !  Remember  how  they  have  spoken  fine  words 
to  us  of  plighted  faith  .  .  .  and  when  we  have  believed 
them  and  laid  down  our  arms  .  .  .  they  have  stolen 
upon  us  in  our  sleep  .  .  .  and  murdered  our  comrades ! 
And  our  kinswomen  whom  they  had  taken  to  be  their 
wives!  Remember  Saint  Brice's  day!  Remember  our 
murdered  kin ! " 

On  he  went  down  the  line;  and  like  a  trail  in  his 
wake,  rose  an  answering  chorus  of  growls  and  clashing 
steel.  Down  some  of  the  battered  old  faces  tears  of 
excitement  began  to  flow,  like  the  water  out  of  the 
riven  rock;  while  the  delirium  of  others  took  the  form 
of  mirth,  so  that  they  sent  forth  wild  terrible  laughter 
to  swell  the  uproar. 

Above  the  tumult  his  voice  rang  like  a  bell: 
"  Heroes  and  sons  of  heroes,  remember  you  fight 
cowards!  Remember  that,  since  the  days  of  our 
fathers,  they  have  made  gold  do  the  work  of  steel. 
To  get  gold  to  buy  peace,  they  will  sell  their  children 
into  slavery.  Sooner  than  look  our  swords  in  the  face, 
they  will  yield  us  their  daughters  to  be  our  thralls! 
Oath-breakers,  nithings!  Will  you  be  beaten  by  such? 
Vikings,  Odinmen,  forward !  " 

His  answer  was  the  bursting  roar  of  the  Danish 
battle-cry.  Like  an  avalanche  loosed  from  its  moorings, 
they  swept  down  the  hillside  upon  the  English  bow- 
men. From  that  moment,  Randalin  rode  in  a  dream. 

At  first  it  was  a  glorious  dream.  On,  on,  over  the 
green  plain,  with  the  wind  fresh  in  her  face  and  the 

74 


THE   GAME   OF   SWORDS 

music  of  the  horns  in  her  ears.  The  son  of  Lodbrok 
was  beside  her,  singing  as  he  went,  and  tossing  his 
great  battle-axe  in  the  air  to  catch  it  again  by  the 
handle.  In  front  of  them  rode  Canute  the  King;  in 
his  hand  his  gleaming  blade,  whose  thin  edge  he  tried 
now  and  again  on  a  lock  of  his  floating  hair,  while  he 
laughed  with  boyish  delight.  Once  he  turned  his  bright 
face  back  over  his  shoulder  to  call  gayly  to  the  Jotun: 

"  Brother,  you  were  right  in  despising  craft.  When 
the  battle-madness  fills  a  man,  he  becomes  a  god !  " 

On,  till  the  bowmen's  faces  were  plain  before  them ; 
then  suddenly  it  began  to  hail, — "the  hail  of  the  string." 
Arrows!  One  hissed  by  the  girl's  ear,  and  one  bit  her 
cloak,  to  hang  there  quivering  with  impotent  fury.  The 
man  on  her  right  made  a  terrible  gurgling  sound  and 
put  up  his  hand  to  tear  a  shaft  from  his  throat.  Would 
they  be  slain  before  —  Canute  rose  in  his  stirrups  with 
a  great  shout.  The  horns  echoed  it;  the  trot  be- 
came a  gallop,  and  the  gallop  a  run.  On,  on,  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  hail-cloud.  How  the  stones  rattled 
on  the  armor !  And  hissed !  There !  a  man  was  death- 
doomed;  he  was  falling. 

Her  cry  was  cut  short  by  the  flashing  of  a  blade 
before  her.  They  had  passed  through  the  hail  and 
reached  the  lightning!  Throwing  up  her  sword,  she 
swerved  to  one  side  and  escaped  the  bolt.  Another 
faced  her  in  this  direction.  The  air  was  shot  with 
bright  flashes.  Swish  —  clash!  they  sounded  behind 
her;  then  a  sickening  jar,  as  Rothgar's  terrible  axe  fell. 
A  yell  of  agony  rent  the  air.  Swish  —  clash !  the  blows 

75 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

came  faster;  her  ear  could  no  longer  separate  them. 
The  thud  of  the  falling  axes  became  one  continuous 
pound.  Faster  and  faster,  heavier  and  heavier,  —  they 
blended  into  a  discordant  roar  that  closed  around  her 
like  a  wall.  Here  and  there  and  to  and  fro,  Rothgar's 
great  charger  followed  the  King;  and  here  and  there 
and  to  and  fro,  on  her  foam-flecked  horse,  Randalin 
followed  the  son  of  Lodbrok,  staring,  dazed,  stunned. 
Her  wits  were  like  a  flock  of  birds  loosed  from  the 
cage  of  her  will,  alighting  here,  upstarting  there,  with- 
out let  or  hindrance.  Sometimes  they  stooped  to  so 
foolish  a  thing  as  a  notch  on  her  horse's  ear,  and  spent 
whole  minutes  questioning  dully  whether  the  teeth  of 
another  horse  had  made  the  wound  or  whether  a  sword 
had  nicked  it  in  battle.  Sometimes  they  followed 
the  notes  of  the  horns,  as  the  ringing  tones  passed  the 
order  along.  From  the  blaring  blast  at  her  ear,  the 
sound  was  drawn  out  on  either  side  of  her  as  fine  as 
silver  wire,  far,  far  away  toward  the  hills.  It  gave  her 
no  conscious  impression  of  the  vastness  of  the  hosts, 
but  it  brought  a  vague  sense  of  wandering,  of  help- 
lessness, that  caused  her  fluttering  wits  to  turn  back, 
startled,  and  set  to  watching  the  pictures  that  showed 
through  rifts  in  the  swirling  dust  clouds,  —  an  Eng- 
lishman falling  from  his  saddle,  his  fingers  widespread 
upon  the  air ;  a  Danish  bowman  wiping  blood  from  his 
eyes  that  he  might  see  to  aim  his  shaft;  yonder,  the 
figure  of  Leofwinesson  himself,  leaping  forward  with 
swift-stabbing  sword.  But  whether  they  were  English 
who  fell  or  Danes  who  stood,  she  had  no  thought,  no 

76 


THE   GAME   OF   SWORDS 

care;  they  meant  no  more  to  her  than  rune  figures 
carved  in  wood. 

The  sun  rose  higher  in  the  heavens,  till  it  stood 
directly  overhead,  and  sweat  mingled  with  the  blood. 
Suddenly,  the  girl  awoke  to  find  that  Rothgar's  singing 
had  changed  into  cursing. 

"  Heed  him  not,  King,"  he  was  bellowing  over 
his  horse's  head.  "  We  have  no  need  of  trick-bought 
victories.  We  bear  the  highest  shields;  warrior-skill 
will  win.  We  need  not  his  snake-wisdom." 

To  the  other  side  of  the  young  leader,  Thorkei  the 
Tall  was  spurring,  bending  urgently  from  his  saddle. 
"Craft,  my  King!  Craft!  It  will  take  till  nightfall 
to  decide  the  game.  Why  spill  so  much  good  blood? 
Listen  to  Edric  the  Gainer  —  " 

Canute's  furious  curse  cut  him  short.  "  To  the 
Troll  with  your  craft!  Swords  shall  make  us,  or 
swords  shall  mar  us.  Use  your  blade,  or  I  will  sheathe 
it  in  you." 

Only  the  wind  that  took  it  from  his  lips  heard  the 
Tall  One's  answer ;  for  at  that  moment  his  horse  reared 
and  sheered  away  before  a  spear-prick,  and  into  the  rift 
a  handful  of  English  rushed  with  shouts  of  triumph. 

There  were  no  more  than  half-a-dozen  of  them, 
and  all  were  on  foot,  the  two  whose  gold-hilted  swords 
proclaimed  their  nobility  of  birth  sharing  the  lot  of 
their  lesser  comrades  according  to  the  old  Saxon  war- 
custom;  but  it  needed  not  the  daring  of  the  attack  to 
mark  them  as  the  very  flower  of  English  chivalry.  The 
young  noble,  who  hovered  around  his  chief  much  as 

77 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

Rothgar  circled  about  Canute,  would  have  been  lordly 
in  a  serf's  tunic;  and  the  leader's  royal  bearing  dis- 
tinguished him  even  more  than  his  mighty  frame. 

At  the  sight  of  him,  Rothgar  uttered  a  great  cry 
of  "  Edmund !  "  and  moved  forward,  swinging  his  up- 
lifted axe.  But  the  Ironside  caught  it  on  his  shield 
and  delivered  a  sword-thrust  in  return  that  dropped 
the  Dane's  arm  by  his  side.  As  it  fell,  Rothgar's  left 
hand  plucked  forth  his  blade,  but  the  English  king  had 
pressed  past  him  toward  his  master. 

Canute's  weapon  had  need  to  dart  like  a  northern 
light.  The  noble  and  one  of  the  soldiers  had  forced 
their  way  to  the  side  from  which  Thorkel  had  been 
riven,  and  a  third  threatened  him  from  the  rear.  Three 
blades  stabbed  at  him  as  with  one  motion. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  that  saved  him,  —  Randalin 
could  explain  it  least  of  all.  But  in  a  lightning  flash 
it  was  burnt  into  her  mind  that,  while  her  King's  sword 
was  a  match  for  the  two  in  front  of  him,  the  one  be- 
hind was  going  to  deal  him  his  death.  And  even  as 
she  thought  it,  she  found  that  she  had  thrown  herself 
across  her  horse's  neck  and  thrust  out  her  sword-arm, 
—  out  with  the  force  of  frenzy  and  down  into  the 
shoulder  of  the  Englishman.  In  a  kind  of  dazed  won- 
der, she  saw  his  blade  fall  from  his  grasp  and  his  eyes 
roll  up  at  her,  as  he  staggered  backwards. 

Canute  laughed  out,  "  Well  done,  Berserker !  "  and 
redoubled  his  play  against  those  before  him. 

A  turn  of  his  wrist  disarmed  the  soldier,  and  his 
point  touched  the  young  noble's  breast;  but  before  he 

78 


THE   GAME    OF    SWORDS 

could  lunge,  the  mighty  figure  of  Edmund  rose  close 
at  hand,  his  blade  heaved  high  above  his  head. 

For  such  a  stroke  there  was  no  parry.  A  kingdom 
seemed  to  be  passing.  Canute  threw  his  shield  before 
him,  while  his  spur  caused  his  horse  to  swerve  vio- 
lently; but  the  blade  cleft  wood  and  iron  and  golden 
plating  like  parchment,  and  falling  on  the  horse's 
neck,  bit  it  to  the  bone.  Rearing  and  plunging  with 
pain,  the  animal  crashed  into  those  behind  him, 
missed  his  footing  and  fell,  entangling  his  rider  in 
the  trappings.  Bending  over  him,  the  Ironside  struck 
again. 

But  the  son  of  Lodbrok  had  still  his  left  arm. 
Bearing  his  shield,  it  shot  out  over  the  body  of  his 
King.  The  falling  brand  bit  this  screen  also,  and 
lopped  off  the  hand  that  held  it,  but  the  respite  was 
sufficient.  In  a  flash  Canute  was  on  his  feet,  both 
hands  grasping  the  hilt  of  his  high-flung  sword. 

It  was  a  mighty  blow,  but  it  fell  harmless.  A  sud- 
den surge  in  the  tide  of  struggling  bodies  swept  the 
Ironside  out  of  reach  and  engulfed  him  in  a  whirlpool 
of  Danish  swords.  He  laid  about  him  like  mad,  and 
was  like  to  have  cleared  a  passage  back,  when  a  second 
wave  carried  him  completely  from  view. 

Canute  cursed  at  the  anxious  faces  that  surrounded 
him.  "What  means  it,  this  swaying?  What  is  herd- 
ing them?  Who  are  flying?  Fools!  Can  you  not  tell 
a  retreat?  Bid  the  horns  blow  —  " 

"  The  English !  "  bellowed  Rothgar.  "  The  Eng- 
lish are  flying  —  Edmund's  head!  Yonder!" 

79 


THE   WARD    OF   KING    CANUTE 

Frode's  daughter  had  Viking  blood,  but  she  hid 
her  face  with  a  cry.  There  it  was,  high  upon  a  spear- 
point,  dripping,  ghastly.  Could  the  sun  shine  upon 
such  a  thing? 

Ay,  and  men  could  rejoice  at  it.  Above  the  panic 
scream  she  heard  cries  of  savage  joy. 

But  Canute  sat  motionless,  on  the  new  horse  they 
had  brought  him.  "  It  is  not  possible,"  he  muttered. 
"The  flight  began  while  he  still  faced  me.  It  was 
their  crowding  that  saved  him." 

To  stare  before  him,  Rothgar  let  the  blood  pour 
unheeded  from  his  wounded  arm.  "  Yonder  Edmund 
rides  now !  "  he  gasped.  "  You  can  tell  him  by  his 
size —  Yonder!  Now  he  is  tearing  off  his  helmet — " 

Nor  was  he  mistaken;  within  spear-throw  the 
mighty  frame  of  the  Ironside  towered  above  his  strug- 
gling guard.  As  he  bared  his  head,  they  could  even 
distinguish  his  face  with  its  large  elegantly-formed 
features  and  Ethelred's  prominent  chin.  Brandish- 
ing his  sword,  shouting  words  of  reassurance,  ex- 
posing his  person  without  a  thought  of  the  darts 
aimed  at  him,  he  was  making  a  heroic  effort  to  check 
the  rush  of  his  panic-stricken  host.  There  was  no 
question  both  that  he  was  alive  and  that  he  knew 
who  was  belying  him;  even  as  they  looked  he  hurled 
his  spear,  with  a  cry  of  rage,  at  the  form  of  Edric 
Jarl. 

Missing  the  Mercian,  it  struck  down  a  man  at  his 
side;  and  high  above  the  voice  of  the  ill-fated  King 
rose  the  shrill  alarms  of  the  traitor's  heralds. 

80 


THE   GAME   OF   SWORDS 

"  Fly,  ye  men  of  Dorsetshire  and  Devon !  Fly  and 
save  yourselves !  Here  is  your  Edmund's  head !  " 

Randalin  stared  about  her,  doubting  her  senses. 
But  light  had  begun  to  dawn  on  Canute.  He  wheeled 
sharply,  as  Thorkel  pushed  his  horse  to  their  sides. 

"Whose  head  was  that?"  he  demanded. 

Thorkel's  face  was  a  lineless  mask.  "  I  believe 
his  name  was  Osmaer,"  he  answered  without  emotion. 
"  It  was  unheard-of  good  fortune  that  he  should  be  so 
like  Edmund  in  looks." 

The  young  King's  face  was  suffused  with  bitter- 
ness. "  Good  fortune !  "  he  cried  sharply.  "  Good  for- 
tune! Am  I  a  fool  or  a  coward  that  I  am  never  to 
win  except  by  craft  or  good  fortune?  Had  you  let 
me  alone  — "  His  voice  broke,  so  bitter  was  his 
disappointment. 

His  foster-father  regarded  him  from  under  lowered 
lids. 

"  Would  you  have  won  without  them  to-day?  "  he 
inquired. 

"  Yes !  "  Canute  cried  savagely,  "  had  you  given 
me  time.  Yes !  " 

But  what  else  he  answered,  Randalin  never  knew. 
Some  unseen  obstacle  turned  in  their  direction  the 
stream  of  rushing  horsemen.  In  an  instant  the  torrent 
had  caught  them  in  its  whirling  eddies,  and  they  were 
so  many  separate  atoms  borne  along  on  the  flood.  To 
hold  back  was  to  be  thrown  down;  to  fall  was  to  be 
trampled  into  rags.  The  battle  had  changed  into  a 
hunt. 

6  81 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

Thundering  hoof-beats,  crashing  blows,  shrieks 
and  groans  and  falling  bodies,  —  a  sense  of  being 
caught  in  a  wolf  pack  took  possession  of  the  girl ;  and 
the  feeling  grew  with  every  sidelong  glance  she  had 
of  the  savage  sweating  dust-grimed  faces,  in  their 
jungles  of  blood-clotted  hair.  The  battle-madness  was 
upon  them,  and  they  were  no  longer  men,  but  beasts  of 
prey.  Amid  the  chaos  of  her  mind,  a  new  idea  shaped 
itself  like  a  new  world.  If  she  could  but  work  her  way 
to  the  edge  of  the  herd,  she  might  escape  down  one 
of  those  green  aisles  opening  before  them.  If  she  only 
could!  Every  fibre  in  her  became  intent  upon  it. 

A  little  opening  showed  on  her  right.  Though  she 
could  not  see  the  ground  before  her,  she  took  the  risk 
and  swung  her  horse  into  the  breach.  His  forefeet 
came  down  upon  the  body  of  a  fallen  man,  but  it  was 
too  late  to  draw  back.  Gripping  her  lip  in  her  teeth, 
she  spurred  him  on.  The  man  turned  over  with  a  yell, 
and  used  his  one  unbroken  arm  to  thrust  upward  his 
broken  sword.  The  blade  cut  her  leg  to  the  bone,  and 
she  shrieked  with  the  pain ;  but  her  startled  horse  had 
no  thought  of  stopping.  Making  his  way  with  plunges 
and  leaps,  he  carried  her  out  of  the  press  sooner  than 
she  could  have  guided  him  out.  Once  on  the  edge,  he 
broke  into  a  run.  The  agony  of  the  shaken  wound  was 
unbearable.  Shrieking  and  moaning,  she  twisted  her 
hands  in  the  lines  and  tried  to  stop  him.  But  her 
strength  was  ebbing  from  her  with  her  blood.  By 
and  by  she  dropped  the  rein  altogether  and  clung  to 
the  saddle-bow. 

82 


THE   GAME    OF    SWORDS 

They  reached  the  woods  at  last,  cool  and  sweet 
and  hushed  in  holy  peace.  The  frantic  horse  plunged 
into  one  of  the  arching  lanes,  and  the  din  of  the  hunt 
died  behind  her;  silence  fell  like  a  curtain  at  their 
heels;  even  the  thudding. hoof-beats  were  softened  on 
the  leafy  ground.  Randalin  lay  along  the  horse's  neck 
now,  and  her  senses  had  begun  to  slip  away  from  her 
like  the  tide  from  the  shore.  It  occurred  to  her  that 
she  was  dying,  and  that  the  Valkyrias  could  not  find 
her  if  she  should  be  carried  too  far  away  from  the 
battle-field.  Trying  to  hold  them  back,  she  stretched 
a  feeble  hand  toward  the  trees;  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  they  did  not  glide  past  quite  so  rapidly.  And  the 
green  river  that  had  been  rushing  toward  her,  that 
passed  under  her  more  slowly  too.  Sometimes  she 
could  even  make  out  violets  amid  the  waves.  But 
the  waves  were  rising  strangely,  she  thought,  —  rising, 
rising  — 

At  last,  she  felt  their  cool  touch  upon  her  fore- 
head. They  had  risen  and  stopped  her.  Somewhere, 
there  was  the  soft  thud  of  a  falling  body;  then  the 
cool  greenness  closed  around  her  and  held  her  ten- 
derly, a  crumpled  leaf  that  the  whirlwind  had  dropped 
from  its  sport. 


CHAPTER   VIII 


TAKEN    CAPTIVE 

No  one  turns  from  good,  if  it  can  be  got. 

HAVAMAL. 

kYING  drowned  in  cool  si- 
lence, the  girl  came  slowly 
Jto     a     consciousness     that 
Jsomeone  was  stooping  over 
Iher.    Raising  her  heavy  lids, 
Iher  eyes  rested  on  a  man's 
face,  showing  dimly  in  the 
jdusk  of  the  starlight. 

He  said  in  English,  "  Ca- 
fnute's  page,  by  the  Saints !  " 
A  chorus  of  voices  answered  him :  "  The  fiend's 
brat  that  pierced  your  shoulder?"  —  "Choke  him!" 
— "  Better  he  die  now  than  after  he  has  waxed  large 
on  English  blood."  —  "  Finish  him!" 

Opening  her  eyes  wider,  she  found  that  heads  and 
shoulders  made  a  black  hedge  around  her. 

The  victim  of  her  blade  straightened,  shaking  his 
shaggy  mane.  "  Were  I  a  Pagan  Dane,  I  would  run 
my  sword  through  him.  But  I  am  a  Christian  Eng- 
lishman. Let  him  lie.  He  will  bleed  his  life  out  be- 
fore morning." 

84 


TAKEN    CAPTIVE 

"Come  on,  then,"  the  chorus  growled.  "The 
Etheling  is  asking  what  hinders  us."  —  "  Make  haste !  " 
—  "  The  Etheling  is  here !  " 

While  the  warrior  was  turning,  a  new  voice  spoke. 

"Canute's  page?"  it  repeated  after  some  unseen 
informant.  "  Is  he  dead?  " 

It  was  a  young  voice,  and  deep  and  soft,  for  all 
the  note  of  quiet  authority  ringing  through  it;  some- 
thing in  its  tone  was  agreeably  different  from  the 
harsh  utterance  of  the  first  speaker.  Randalin's  eyes 
rose  dreamily  to  find  the  owner. 

He  had  ridden  up  behind  the  others  on  a  pranc- 
ing white  horse.  Above  the  black  hedge,  the  square 
strength  of  his  shoulders  and  the  graceful  lines  of 
his  helmed  head  were  silhouetted  sharply  against  the 
starry  sky.  Why  had  they  so  familiar  a  look?  Ah! 
the  noble  who  had  followed  Edmund  — 

So  far  she  got,  and  then  all  was  blotted  out  in 
a  flash  of  pain,  as  the  man  nearest  her  put  out  a  hand 
and  touched  her  torn  limb. 

"  Wriggling  like  a  fish,  lord,"  he  answered  the 
new-comer. 

A  sound  on  the  soft  turf  told  that  the  horseman 
had  alighted.  "  The  bantling  is  of  too  good  quality  to 
leave,"  he  said  good-naturedly.  "  Catch  my  bridle, 
Oswin.  Where  is  he  wounded?  " 

He  made  a  quick  step  toward  her,  then  paused  as 
suddenly,  his  chin  thrust  out  in  listening.  A  gesture 
of  his  hand  imposed  a  sudden  silence,  through  which 
the  sound  became  distinct  to  all  ears,  —  a  trampling 

85 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

and  crashing  in  the  brush  beyond  the  moonlit  open. 
As  they  wheeled  to  face  it,  a  shout  came  from  that 
direction. 

"  What  ho !    Does  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  go  there?  " 

He  whom  they  had  called  the  Etheling  drew  him- 
self up  alertly.  "  I  make  no  answer  to  hedge-creepers," 
he  said.  "  Come  out  where  you  can  be  seen." 

The  voice  took  on  a  mocking  edge.  "  There  is  no 
gainsaying  that  I  feel  safer  here.  I  am  the  messenger 
of  Edric  of  Mercia." 

Only  a  warning  sign  from  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale 
restrained  an  angry  chorus.  He  said  with  slow  con- 
tempt, "  I  grant  that  it  is  well  fitting  the  Gainer's 
deeds  that  his  men  should  flinch  from  the  light  —  " 

"  Misgreet  me  not,"  the  mocking  voice  interrupted. 
"  Before  cockcrow  we  shall  be  sworn  brothers.  I  bear 
a  message  to  King  Edmund.  And  I  want  you  to  fur- 
ther me  on  my  way  by  telling  which  direction  will 
fetch  me  to  his  camp." 

Derisive  laughter  went  up  from  the  band  of  King's 
men.  Their  leader  snapped  his  fingers. 

"  That  for  your  slippery  devices !  Is  the  Gainer 
so  ill-advised  as  to  imagine  that  he  is  dealing  with  a 
second  Ethelred?" 

"  I  tell  you  to  keep  in  mind,"  the  voice  retorted, 
"that  before  the  cock  crows  we  shall  be  sworn 
brothers." 

The  Etheling's  anger  leaped  out  like  a  flame ;  even 
in  the  starlight  it  could  be  seen  how  his  face  crimsoned. 

"  No,  as  God  lives !  "  he  answered  swiftly.  "  It  is 
86 


TAKEN    CAPTIVE 

not  to  Edmund  alone  that  the  Gainer  is  loathful. 
Should  he  pass  the  King's  sword,  a  hundred  blades 
wait  for  him,  mine  among  them.  Seek  what  he  may 
seek,  he  shall  not  have  peace  of  us.  When  I  guide  a 
wolf  to  my  sheep-fold,  I  will  show  you  the  way  to 
Edmund's  camp.  Take  yourself  out  of  reach  if  you 
would  not  be  sped  with  arrows." 

A  jeering  laugh  was  the  only  answer,  but  the 
tramping  of  hoofs  suggested  that  his  advice  was  being 
taken. 

When  the  sound  had  faded  quite  away,  the  Lord 
of  Ivarsdale  breathed  out  the  rest  of  his  resentment  in 
a  hearty  imprecation,  and,  turning,  came  on  to  his 
patient.  His  voice  was  as  gentle  as  a  woman's  as  he 
dropped  on  his  knee  beside  the  slim  figure. 

"  What  is  your  need,  little  fire-eater?  " 

A  memory  of  her  haunting  terror  stirred  in  the 
girl.  Shrinking  from  him,  she  made  a  desperate  effort 
to  push  away  his  outstretched  hand,  threatening  him 
in  a  broken  whisper. 

"  If  you  touch  me  —  I  will  —  kill  you." 

They  were  brave  men,  those  Englishmen.  The 
Etheling  only  smiled,  and  one  of  his  warriors  chuckled. 
With  a  touch  as  gentle  as  it  was  strong,  he  put  aside 
her  resisting  hands  and  began  swiftly  to  cut  away  the 
blood-stiffened  hose.  Darkness  closed  around  Randa- 
lin  again,  darkness  shot  with  zigzag  lightnings  of  pain, 
and  throbbing  with  pitiful  moans. 

The  idea  took  possession  of  her  that  she  was  once 
more  on  the  battle-field,  that  it  was  the  cries  of  the 

87 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

men  who  were  falling  around  her  which  pierced  the 
air,  and  their  weapons  that  stabbed  her  as  they  fell. 
Then  their  hands  clutched  her  in  a  dying  grip.  Horse- 
men loomed  up  before  her  and  came  nearer,  and  she 
could  not  get  out  of  their  path,  though  she  struggled 
with  all  her  force.  The  hoofs  were  almost  upon 
her.  .  .  .  Uttering  a  wild  scream,  she  put  forth  all 
her  strength  in  a  last  effort. 

"  It  will  be  like  holding  a  young  tiger,  lord,"  a 
harsh  voice  suddenly  reached  her  ear. 

She  came  to  herself  to  find  that  soldiers  were  lift- 
ing her  up  to  the  horseman,  where  he  sat  again  in  his 
saddle.  She  recognized  the  squareness  of  his  shoulders ; 
and  she  knew  the  gentleness  of  his  touch  as  he  slipped 
his  free  arm  around  her  and  drew  her  carefully  into 
place,  making  of  his  stalwart  body  a  support  for  her 
weakness.  No  strength  was  in  her  to  struggle  against 
him;  only  her  wide  bright  eyes  sought  his,  with  the 
terror  of  a  snared  bird. 

Meeting  the  look  and  understanding  a  small  part 
of  its  question,  he  said  a  reassuring  word  in  his  pleas- 
ant low-pitched  voice :  "  Be  of  good  cheer,  youngling ; 
there  is  no  thought  of  eating  you.  I  will  bring  you  to 
a  cup  of  wine  before  moonrise,  if  you  hold  fast." 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  girl  so  much  as  heard  him. 
Her  eyes  were  passing  from  feature  to  feature  of  his 
face,  as  the  stars  revealed  it  above  her,  —  from  the 
broad  comely  brow  to  the  square  young  chin,  from  the 
clean-cut  fine-tempered  mouth  to  the  clear  true  eyes. 
One  by  one  she  noted  them,  and  shade  by  shade  her 

88 


TAKEN    CAPTIVE 

strained  look  of  fear  relaxed.  Slowly  she  forgot  her 
dread;  and  forgetting,  her  mind  wandered  to  other 
things,  —  to  memories  of  her  father,  and  of  the  happy 
evenings  by  the  fire  when  she  had  nestled  safe  in  his 
arms,  —  safe  and  sheltered  and  beloved.  With  eyes 
still  turned  up  toward  his  face,  her  lids  drooped  and 
fell;  and  her  head  sank  upon  his  breast  and  lay  there, 
in  the  peace  of  perfect  faith. 


89 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  YOUNG  LORD  OF  IVARSDALE 

Brand  is  kindled  from  brand 

Till  it  is  burnt  out ; 

Fire  is  kindled  from  fire ; 

A  man  gets  knowledge 

By  talk  with  a  man, 

But  becomes  wilful  by  self-conceit. 

HAVAMAL. 

AP  —  tap,     tap  —  tap,     like 
water      dripping      slowly. 
Drop  by   drop   the   sound 
Itered    through    the    thick 
wrappings      of      Randalin's 
slumber,    till    she    knew    it 
for     the     beat     of     horses' 
hoofs,      and      stirred      and 
opened  her  eyes. 

The  silver  shimmer  of 
starlight  falling  through  purple  deeps  had  given  way 
to  the  ruddy  glare  of  a  camp  fire,  and  she  was  lying 
just  beyond  its  heat,  cloak-wrapped,  on  a  bed  of  leaves. 
Above  her,  interlacing  beech  boughs  made  an  arching 
roof,  under  which  the  shadows  clustered  as  swallows 
under  eaves.  Before  her,  green  tree-lanes  opened  out 
like  corridors.  As  far  as  the  fireglow  could  reach,  they 

90 


THE   YOUNG   LORD   OF   IVARSDALE 

were  flooded  with  golden  light ;  where  it  stopped,  they 
were  closed  across  by  darkness  as  by  gray-black  doors. 
V/ithin  the  sylvan  alcove,  some  four-score  battle- 
stained  warriors  were  taking  their  ease  after  a  hard 
day.  Some  of  them  were  engaged  in  the  ghastly  busi- 
ness of  bandaging  wounds,  and  some  were  already 
asleep;  but  the  greater  number  lounged  in  the  fire- 
light, drinking  and  feasting  on  strips  of  venison  which 
serfs  had  cooked  in  the  flames. 

Through  the  fog  of  her  drowsiness  Randalin  rec- 
ognized them  slowly.  Yonder  was  the  Englishman 
who  had  found  her  in  the  bushes.  Beyond  him,  across 
the  fire,  the  soldiers  who  had  lifted  her  up  to  the  horse- 
man. Here,  just  in  front  of  her,  was  the  leader  him- 
self. Her  gaze  settled  upon  him  dreamily. 

He  had  finished  his  meal,  if  meal  it  could  be  called, 
and  was  making  some  attempt  at  a  toilet.  While  one 
serf  knelt  beside  him,  scrubbing  at  his  muddy  riding- 
boots  with  a  wisp  of  wet  grass,  another  held  a  gilt 
shield  up  for  a  mirror,  and  before  this  the  Etheling 
was  carefully  parting  his  shining  hair.  His  captive's 
eyes  were  not  the  only  ones  upon  him,  and  the  bright 
metal  showed  that  he  was  laughing  a  little  at  the  com- 
ments his  performance  drew  forth  from  the  three  old 
cnihts  lounging  near  him. 

"  Tending  by  five  hairs  to  the  sword-side,  Lord 
Sebert,"  one  of  them  was  offering  quizzical  criticism 
over  his  drinking-horn. 

"  The  Etheling  must  needs  have  extraordinary  re- 
spect for  the  endurance  of  Harald  Fairhair,  for  it  is 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

said  that  to  accomplish  a  vow  he  went  three  years 
without  barbering  himself,"  another  said  gravely. 
While  a  third  became  slyly  reminiscent,  as  he  chewed 
his  venison. 

"  These  are  soft  days,  comrades.  The  last  time  I 
followed  the  old  chief,  of  honored  memory,  we  held 
our  war-council  standing  knee-deep  in  a  fen.  We  had 
neither  eaten  nor  drunk  for  two  days,  and  three  days' 
blood  was  on  our  hands." 

The  young  chief  took  it  all  with  careless  good- 
humor. 

"  When  you  leave  off  eating,  in  memory  of  that 
brave  time,  I  will  leave  off  washing,"  he  returned. 
"  Would  you  have  me  go  into  a  royal  council  looking 
as  though  birds  had  nested  in  my  hair? "  With  a 
parting  scrutiny  of  his  smooth  locks,  he  motioned  the 
shield-bearer  aside  and  turned  back  to  them  his  comely 
face,  rosy  from  his  recent  ablutions  and  alight  with  a 
momentary  enthusiasm. 

"  I  tell  you,  nothing  but  a  warrior's  life  becomes 
ethel-born  men,"  he  said  as  he  straightened  himself 
with  a  gallant  gesture.  "  Nor  sluggishness  nor  junket- 
ings, but  days  under  fire  and  nights  among  the  Wise 
Men  of  the  council;  that,  in  truth,  becomes  their 
station.  By  Saint  Mary,  I  feel  that  I  have  never  lived 
before!  One  week  at  the  heels  of  Edmund  Ironside  is 
worth  a  lifetime  under  the  banner  of  any  other  king." 

A  pause  met  his  warmth  somewhat  coldly;  and 
the  warrior  who  broke  the  silence  lowered  his  voice  to 
do  it. 

92 


THE   YOUNG   LORD   OF   IVARSDALE 

"  Keep  in  mind,  lord,  that  it  is  no  more  than  a 
week  that  you  have  been  at  his  heels,"  he  said. 

"  Likewise  bear  in  mind  whose  son  he  is,"  the  man 
with  the  drinking-horn  added  grimly.  He  was  a  stout 
white-bearded  old  cniht  with  an  obstinate  old  face 
that  looked  something  like  a  ruddy  apple  in  a  snow- 
bank. 

Flushing,  the  young  noble  ceased  examining  his 
sword-edge  to  meet  the  eyes  bent  upon  him. 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  think  I  stand  in  need  of  a 
rebuke  for  lukewarmness,  Morcard,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  I  have  no  more  forgot  that  King  Edmund's  father 
gave  the  order  for  my  father's  murder  than  I  have  for- 
got that  Edric  was  the  tool  who  did  the  deed.  May 
Saint  Peter  exterminate  him  with  his  sword!  Did  I 
not  live  even  as  a  lordless  man  the  while  that  Ethel- 
red  remained  upon  the  throne?  But  what  sense  to 
continue  at  that  after  Ethelred  was  dead,  and  the  valor 
of  his  son  was  to  that  degree  exalted  as  if  he  had 
sprung  from  Alfred?  Yourself  counselled  me  to  join 
him  at  Gillingham,  and  take  the  post  under  his  banner 
that  my  fathers  have  always  held  beside  his  fathers." 

Two  of  the  three  warriors  made  no  other  answer 
than  to  gurgle  their  drink  noisily  in  their  throats ;  but 
the  one  whom  he  had  called  Morcard  answered  dryly, 
"  It  is  not  against  testing  the  new  king  that  we  would 
advise  you,  Lord  Sebert;  it  is  against  trusting  him. 
But  we  will  not  be  troublesome."  He  lifted  his  hand 
suddenly  to  his  ear.  "  Horses'  feet !  And  stopping 
by  the  King's  fire  —  " 

93 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

What  else  he  said,  Randalin  did  not  hear.  Her 
wits  had  crawled  heavily  after  the  sound  of  the  hoofs. 
Now  the  beat  changed  to  a  champing  and  stamping 
among  dry  leaves  not  many  rods  to  her  right.  She 
wondered  indifferently  if  there  was  any  likelihood  of 
their  running  over  her;  then  forgot  the  query  before 
she  had  answered  it. 

The  Etheling  was  speaking  again,  with  all  the 
earnestness  of  hero-worship. 

"  —  the  battles  he  has  fought,  the  abundance  of 
warriors  he  has  gathered  together,  the  land  he  has  won 
back  since  his  father's  death !  Only  take  to-day  —  " 

"  Ay,  take  to-day ! "  the  old  man  snapped  him 
up  with  unexpected  vehemence.  "  And  the  Devil  take 
me  if  I  ever  heard  of  such  witless  folly!  What!  To 
go  plunging  off  into  the  thick  of  the  enemy,  endan- 
gering in  his  person  the  hope  of  the  whole  English 
nation  —  " 

The  young  noble  relaxed  from  his  earnestness  to 
laugh.  "  Now  has  habit  outrid  your  manners,  Mor- 
card.  So  long  have  you  been  wont  to  use  your  tongue 
on  my  heedlessness,  that  it  begins  mechanically  to  per- 
form the  same  office  for  Edmund.  In  a  king,  such 
courage  inspires  —  " 

"  Courage ! "  Morcard's  fingers  snapped  loudly. 
"  Did  not  the  henchman  who  followed  you  have  cour- 
age? Yet  do  we  think  of  crowning  him?  I  tell  you  that 
a  king  needs  to  have  something  besides  courage.  He 
needs  to  have  judgment.  Then  will  he  know  better 
than  to  leave  his  men  like  sheep  without  a  leader.  The 

94 


THE  YOUNG   LORD   OF   IVARSDALE 

old  proverb  has  it  right,  *  When  the  chief  fails,  the  host 
quails.'  It  was  when  they  had  become  frightened  about 
him  that  they  began  to  give  way,  and  after  that  it  was 
easy  for  any  oaf  to  jump  out  of  the  bushes  and  put 
them  to  flight." 

This  time  the  Etheling's  smile  was  rather  unwill- 
ing. "  Oh !  If  you  think  fit  to  set  at  naught  a  brave 
deed  because  nothing  arose  from  it!  After  his  father's 
cowardice,  such  energy  and  dauntlessness  alone  — " 

"  Dauntlessness ! "  the  old  cniht  snorted  again. 
"  It  is  the  dauntlessness  of  the  man  in  Father  In- 
gulph's  story,  who  was  so  much  wiser  than  his  ad- 
visers that  he  must  try  to  drive  the  sun  a  new  way, 
till  it  came  so  nigh  as  it  nighest  may  to  setting  the 
world  afire."  So  hot  was  his  scorn  that  he  was  obliged 
to  cool  it  in  his  ale,  coming  to  the  surface  slightly 
mollified.  "  However,  Lord  Sebert,  you  have  cast  your 
colt's-teeth,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  tread  upon  the 
toes  of  your  dignity.  If  I  have  been  over-free,  excuse 
it  in  your  father's  old  servant  and  comrade  who  has 
guarded  and  guided  you  since  —  since  you  have  had 
teeth  to  cast." 

The  young  man  laughed  good-humoredly  as  he 
straightened  himself  for  action.  "  Too  often  has  my 
dignity  bent  under  your  rod,  Morcard,  to  hold  itself 
very  stiff  against  you  now.  Never  fear;  I  will  be  an 
owl  of  discretion.  Give  you  favorable  dreams  over 
your  horns !  "  He  picked  up  his  cloak  and  was  turn- 
ing to  depart,  when  one  of  the  warriors  flung  up  a 
hand. 

95 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Soft,  my  lord.  Yonder  comes  Wikel  making 
strange  signs  to  you." 

All  heads  but  Randalin's  turned  in  the  direction 
he  was  looking.  She  was  still  too  lethargic  for  curi- 
osity; and  she  found  a  kind  of  dreamy  content  in 
lying  with  her  eyes  upon  the  Etheling's  handsome 
face.  Though  its  prevailing  characteristic  was  the 
easy  amiability  of  one  who  has  known  little  of  opposi- 
tion or  dislike,  there  was  no  lack  of  steel  in  the  blue 
eyes  or  of  iron  in  the  square  chin;  now  and  then  a 
spark  betrayed  them,  thrilling  pleasantly  through  her 
drowsiness. 

Presently,  however,  between  her  and  the  comely 
apparition  there  intervened  the  brawny  figure  of  a 
yeoman-soldier. 

He  said  breathlessly,  "  Chief  —  before  you  go  to 
the  King  —  be  it  known  to  you  that  those  horse-feet 
you  heard  —  belong  to  the  mounts  of  Edric  of  Mercia 
and  his  men  —  and  he  is  with  King  Edmund  now ! " 

The  three  stolid  old  warriors  got  to  their  feet  with 
curses.  The  Etheling  bent  forward  to  gaze  incredu- 
lously into  the  man's  face. 

"  Edric  of  Mercia?  With  the  King?  Why  do  you 
think  so?" 

"  I  was  a  little  way  beyond  the  King's  fire,  watch- 
ing a  fellow  who  was  showing  how  he  could  jump  over 
the  flames,  when  I  saw  the  Gainer  ride  past;  and  I 
followed  him,  as  near  as  the  guards  would  permit  — 
near  enough  to  see  that  the  King  received  him  —  let 
him  settle  it  with  Saint  Cuthbert ! " 

96 


THE   YOUNG   LORD   OF   IVARSDALE 

There  was  a  pause  of  utter  stupefaction;  then, 
from  all  within  hearing,  a  clamorous  outburst :  "  It  is 
the  Gainer's  luck  again!" — "The  messenger  knew  what 
he  was  saying !  "  —  "  No  sharpness  of  wit  can  compre- 
hend it !  "  —  "  It  is  the  magic  of  his  flattering  tongue." 
—  "A  hundred  tongues  had  done  no  harm  if  Ed- 
mund — "  The  voices  sank  into  a  snarling  under- 
tone: "Ay,  there  it  is!  "— "  Ethelred's  blood!"— "It 
is  no  more  to  be  counted  on  than  is  water  —  "  "  What 
could  have  moved  him  to  it?  " 

Morcard's  throat  emitted  a  sound  that  might  have 
been  a  chuckle  or  might  have  been  a  growl.  "  I  will 
tell  you  plainly  for  why;  it  is  his  dauntlessness.  He 
is  going  to  pit  his  green  wit  against  Edric's,  that  has 
made  two  kings  as  wax  between  his  fingers!  And  he 
has  begun  by  letting  the  wolf  into  the  fold." 

It  appeared  that  the  Etheling  had  recovered  from 
his  surprise,  for  now  he  said  steadily,  "  I  will  not  be- 
lieve it.  Until  their  oaths  have  been  spoken  and  their 
hands  have  clasped  and  my  own  eyes  have  witnessed 
it,  I  will  not  believe  it  of  him." 

Motioning  them  from  his  path,  he  was  starting 
forward  a  second  time,  when  the  old  cniht  laid  a  hand 
lightly  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Hear  me,  Lord  Sebert !  If  then,  —  to  weigh  all 
perils  like  a  soldier,  —  if  then,  you  do  witness  it  with 
your  own  eyes?" 

The  blue  gave  out  a  flash  of  smitten  steel. 

Morcard  answered  as  to  words :  "  You  will  be  one 
against  many,  lord." 

7  97 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  You  cannot  mean  that  the  Witan  will  comply 
with  him ! "  the  Etheling  cried. 

"  How  is  it  possible  that  they  should  do  other- 
wise? The  odal-born  men  could  not  prevent  it  when 
Ethelred  took  Alfric  back.  And  to-night,  few  but 
thanes  have  resorted  thither  —  men  whom  the  Rede- 
less  took  from  ploughing  his  fields  to  gild  with  no- 
bility. Is  it  likely  that  they  will  oppose  the  hand  that 
can  strip  off  their  gilding?  " 

It  appeared  that  the  young  man  could  find  no  an- 
swer to  that,  for  he  made  none. 

"  At  least  once,  my  lord,  Ethelred's  wilfulness  has 
shown  in  his  son,  when  he  set  aside  the  King's  com- 
mand to  take  possession  of  Sigeferth's  widow  and  her 
estates.  And  I  think  it  was  Ethelred's  temper  that 
moved  him  to  spend  an  energy,  much  better  directed 
against  the  Pagans,  in  laying  waste  two  of  his  own 
shires.  Remember  what  happened  when  your  father 
raised  himself  against  Ethelred." 

Restive  under  the  restraining  hand,  the  young 
noble  faced  him  desperately.  "  Morcard,  in  God's 
name,  what  would  you  have  me  do?  I  will  not 
bend  to  it,  nor  would  you  wish  me  to.  Or  sooner  or 
later  —  " 

"  Let  it  be  later,  lord.  After  you  have  had  time  to 
marshal  your  wits,  and  when  it  is  daylight,  and  you 
have  your  men  at  your  back." 

After  a  while,  the  Etheling  yielded  and  turned  aside. 
"  Let  it  be  as  you  have  said  —  though  I  cannot  believe 
yet  that  it  will  happen."  Coming  back  where  a  fallen 

98 


THE  YOUNG  LORD   OF   IVARSDALE 

tree  made  a  mossy  seat,  he  dropped  down  upon  it  and 
sat  staring  at  the  ground  in  frowning  abstraction. 

The  motion  dropped  him  out  of  the  range  of  Ran- 
dalin's  vision,  and  her  eyes  wandered  away  discon- 
tentedly. If  there  was  nothing  more  to  look  at,  she 
might  as  well  go  to  sleep.  The  fire  was  dying  down  so 
that  the  overhanging  shadow  was  drooping  lower,  like 
a  canopy  that  would  fall  and  smother  them  when  the 
spears  of  light  that  upheld  it  should  sink  at  last  in 
the  ashes.  The  doors  of  darkness  had  moved  far  up 
the  tree-corridors,  and  strange  flickering  shapes  peered 
through.  Her  eyes  followed  them  heavily.  The  for- 
est was  very  still  now;  even  the  grating  sound  of  the 
frogs  was  hushed,  and  the  low  hum  of  the  voices  around 
the  fire  was  soothing  as  the  sound  of  swarming  bees. 

She  was  just  losing  consciousness  when  the  figure 
of  a  second  yeoman-soldier  moved  across  her  vision, 
looming  black  against  the  fireglow.  His  whisper  came 
sharply  to  her  ears. 

"  It  is  done,  chief.  May  they  have  the  wrath  of 
the  Almighty!  Their  hands  have  met,  Edric's  and  the 
King's,  and  his  thanes'  and  Norman  of  Baddeby's,  who 
is  with  Edric.  Now  are  they  lying  down  in  their  man- 
tles, as  it  were  to  seal  their  pledge  by  sleeping  within 
reach  of  each  other's  knives." 

"  Norman  of  Baddeby ! "  the  name  leaped  out  of 
the  rest  to  bite  at  her  like  a  dog,  worrying  deeper  and 
deeper  through  the  wrappings  of  her  stupor.  Her  eyes 
widened  in  troubled  questioning.  She  heard  the  angry 
voices  rise,  and  she  saw  the  Etheling  leap  to  his  feet 

99 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

and  shake  his  clenched  hand  above  his  head.  Then  she 
lost  sight  of  everything,  for  the  fang  had  pierced  her 
torpor  and  touched  her. 

"  Norman  of  Baddeby "  —  her  father's  slayer ! 
Memory  entered  like  poison  to  spread  burning  through 
every  vein.  Her  father  —  Fridtjof  —  the  Jotun  —  the 
battle —  Her  ears  were  dinned  with  terrible  noises; 
her  eyes  were  seared  by  terrible  pictures.  She  crushed 
her  hands  against  her  head,  but  the  sound  came  from 
within  and  would  not  be  stilled.  She  buried  her  face 
in  the  leaves,  but  the  visions  pressed  faster  before  her. 
The  son  of  Leofwine  and  the  drunken  feast  —  the  girl 
outside  the  tent  —  the  Jotun  within  it  —  her  terrible 
young  guardian — the  battle-madness — whichever  way 
she  looked,  a  new  spectre  confronted  her.  Helpless  in 
their  grip,  she  tossed  to  and  fro  in  agony  —  to  and  fro. 

Though  it  was  so  tortured  that  she  could  not  tell 
it  from  her  waking  thoughts,  sleep  must  have  come  to 
her;  for  when  at  last  she  reached  the  point  where  she 
could  endure  it  no  longer  and  struggled  up,  panting, 
to  her  elbow,  to  try  to  recall  herself  by  a  sight  of 
those  about  her,  she  found  that  the  hum  of  excited 
voices  was  stilled,  and  the  silence  throbbed  with  the 
deep  breathing  of  sleepers.  From  under  the  canopy  of 
darkness  the  fiery  spears  had  dropped  away,  leaving 
the  thick  folds  sagging  lower  and  lower.  Swarming 
under  its  shelter,  the  shadow-shapes  were  closing  in 
upon  her. 

For  a  while  she  watched  them  absently;  then  a 
whim  of  her  tortured  brain  poisoned  them  also.  They 

100 


THE  YOUNG   LORD   OF  IVARSDALE 

became  terrible  nameless  Things,  mouthing  at  her, 
darting  upon  her.  She  drew  her  eyes  resolutely 
away  and  set  herself  to  listening  to  the  breathing 
that  throbbed  in  a  dozen  keys  through  the  silence. 

Almost  at  her  feet,  the  Etheling  was  stretched  out 
in  his  cloak,  motionless  as  the  fallen  tree.  Her  face 
was  slowly  relaxing  when,  a  second  time,  memory  be- 
trayed her.  Just  so,  she  recollected,  Leofwine's  son 
was  lying,  not  a  hundred  yards  away.  Through  the 
trees,  the  glow  of  the  King's  fire  came  distinctly ;  gaz- 
ing toward  it,  she  could  almost  convince  herself  that 
she  could  see  the  murderer,  peaceful,  secure.  She 
ground  her  teeth  in  a  sudden  spasm  of  rage.  Would 
that  some  of  those  weak-witted  thanes  would  prove 
the  mettle  of  the  knives  he  was  daring! 

The  next  instant,  she  had  thrown  herself  down 
with  terror-widened  eyes,  and  was  trying  to  bury  her 
face  in  the  leaves,  while  the  tongueless  mouth  of  every 
shadowy  shape  seemed  to  shriek  above  her,  — 

"  Odin  sends  you  revenge !  "  —  "  It  is  the  will  of 
Odin  that  has  drawn  you  together !  "  —  "  Strange  and 
wonderful  is  the  way  in  which  you  are  hesitating !  " 
— "  Would  you  become  like  the  girl  with  the  neck- 
lace?"—  "Are  you  a  coward,  that  you  do  not  prefer 
to  die  in  good  repute  rather  than  live  in  the  shame  of 
neglecting  your  duty?  " 

She  flung  up  her  haggard  face  in  appeal.  "  No, 
no,  I  am  not  a  coward,"  her  spirit  cried  within  her. 
"  I  was  brave  in  the  battle.  It  is  not  death  I  fear ;  but 
I  cannot  kill !  Odin,  have  mercy  on  me !  I  cannot  kill. 

101 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

I  have  tried  to  be  brave,  but  I  am  really  a  woman;  it 
is  not  possible  for  me  to  have  a  man's  heart." 

The  grinning  shadows  mouthed  at  her.  "  You 
have  not  dared  to  be  a  woman,"  they  mocked.  "  You 
have  not  dared  to  be  a  woman,  so  you  must  dare  to  be 
a  man." 

A  night  wind  shuddered  through  the  trees,  and 
the  hovering  shades  seemed  to  hiss  in  her  ear. 

"  Coward !  Traitor !  Nithing !  Do  you  not  get 
afraid  that  you  will  experience  the  wrath  of  the  dead? 
Listen!  Is  that  the  wind  rustling  the  leaves?  Or 
is  it  —  " 

A  gasp  burst  from  the  white  lips,  and  the  die  was 
cast.  While  the  cold  drops  started  on  her  pain-racked 
body,  she  dragged  herself  to  her  knees  and  fumbled 
with  trembling  hands  about  her  belt.  For  an  in- 
stant, something  like  a  moonbeam  glimmered  amid 
the  shadow;  then  her  lips  closed  convulsively  upon 
the  steel.  Tipping  forward  upon  her  hands,  she  tested 
cautiously  the  strength  of  her  wounded  leg,  smother- 
ing groans  of  pain  that  seemed  to  tear  her  throat  in 
the  swallowing.  But  the  whispering  of  the  night-wind 
was  like  a  spur  in  her  side;  inch  by  inch,  she  crawled 
steadily  toward  the  flickering  light. 


102 


CHAPTER   X 


AS    THE    NORNS    DECREE 

This  I  thee  counsel  tenthly; 

That  thou  never  trust 

A  foe's  kinsman's  promises, 

Whose  brother  thou  hast  slain, 

Or  sire  laid  low  ; 

There  is  a  wolf 

In  a  young  son, 

Though  he  with  gold  be  gladdened. 

SIGRDRIFUMAL. 

T  was  a  long  way  to  the 
King's  fire,  but  at  last  it 
lay  before  her;  before  and 
below  her,  for  it  had  been 
built  in  a  depression  of  the 
little  open.  The  last  charred 
log  had  fallen  apart,  spread- 
ing a  swarm  of  golden  glow- 
worms over  the  black  earth, 
ut  there  was  still  enough 
light  to  reveal  a  ring  of  muffled  forms  sprawling 
around  the  sloping  sides  of  the  hollow,  with  their  feet 
toward  the  fire  and  their  heads  lost  in  darkness.  Paus- 
ing in  the  tree-shadow,  the  girl  thrilled  with  sudden 
hope.  Since  their  faces  were  all  hidden,  how  was  she 
to  distinguish  her  victim?  Even  the  dead  must  see 

103 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

that  it  would  be  impossible.  If  the  burden  could  only 
be  lifted  from  her! 

Fate  was  inexorable.  At  that  moment,  the  war- 
rior directly  in  front  of  her  stirred  in  his  sleep  and 
flung  a  jewelled  hand  over  his  face.  Those  broad  gold 
rings  with  the  green  stones  that  sparkled  like  serpents' 
eyes  as  they  caught  the  light!  They  were  fixed  in- 
delibly in  her  memory,  for  she  had  seen  them  on 
the  rapacious  hand  that  had  seized  upon  her  while 
it  was  still  red  with  her  father's  blood.  Only  from 
them,  she  could  reconstruct  every  hard  line  of  the 
hidden  face.  Suddenly,  in  the  rage  that  rose  in  her 
at  the  recollection,  she  found  determination  for  the 
deed. 

The  sentinel  nearest  her  was  snoring  at  his  post; 
the  further  one  would  not  be  able  to  reach  her  in  time, 
even  should  he  see  her.  Somewhere,  far  away,  a  cock 
was  crowing;  and  it  came  to  her  suddenly  that  the 
breathlessness  about  her  was  the  hush  that  precedes 
the  dawn.  There  was  no  time  to  lose,  she  told  herself 
feverishly,  and  moved  forward  with  snake-like  still- 
ness. Between  the  sheltering  arm  and  the  neck  of  the 
steel  shirt  there  was  a  space  of  naked  throat.  Setting 
her  teeth,  she  raised  her  knife  and  struck  down  at  it 
with  a  strong  hand. 

The  point  never  reached  its  mark.  For  an  instant 
she  could  not  tell  what  had  happened.  Fingers  closed 
like  iron  bands  around  her  wrist,  pulling  her  back- 
wards so  that  the  pain  of  her  twisted  wound  wrung  a 
cry  from  her  lips.  They  were  not  Norman's  fingers, 

104 


AS    THE    NORNS    DECREE 

yet  he  also  was  stirring;  while  darting  flashes  from 
the  dusk  about  them  told  that  the  other  sleepers  were 
drawing  their  weapons.  Then  some  one  threw  a  branch- 
ful  of  dead  leaves  upon  the  fire. 

The  flame  that  flared  up  showed  her  arm  to  be  in 
the  grasp  of  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale. 

"  You  mad  young  one !  "  he  gasped,  as  he  wrenched 
the  blade  from  her  hold. 

Voices  rose  in  angry  questioning,  but  Randalin 
was  too  fear-benumbed  to  understand  what  they  said. 
Norman's  keen  eyes  were  turned  upon  her,  and  rec- 
ognition was  dawning  in  their  gaze.  Suddenly,  he 
snatched  her  from  Sebert's  grasp  and  held  her  down 
to  the  firelight. 

Could  she  have  seen  the  mask  which  dust  and  blood 
had  made  for  her,  she  would  have  been  spared  the 
terror-swoon  that  left  her  limp  in  his  grasp.  But  it 
only  bewildered  her  when,  after  an  instant's  scrutiny, 
he  let  her  fall  with  an  angry  laugh. 

"  The  boy  from  Avalcomb !  Certainly  these  Danes 
are  as  hard  to  kill  as  cats!  I  would  have  sworn  to  it 
that  I  had  separated  his  life  from  his  body  not  eight- 
and-forty  hours  ago."  A  gleam  of  eagerness  came 
into  his  face,  and  he  bent  over  her  again.  "  You  shall 
serve  my  purpose  by  your  obstinacy,"  he  said  under 
his  breath.  "  You  shall  tell  me  where  your  sister  is. 
You  know,  for  you  escaped  together.  When  I  was 
restored  to  my  senses,  I  found  you  both  gone.  Tell 
me  where  she  lies  hidden,  and  it  may  be  that  I  wilf 
grant  to  you  a  longer  life." 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Her  stiff  lips  could  not  have  spoken  an  answer 
had  her  paralyzed  brain  been  able  to  frame  one.  She 
could  only  gaze  back  at  him  in  helpless  waiting. 

A  second  time  he  was  bending  toward  her,  when 
something  stopped  him  midway  so  that  he  straight- 
ened and  drew  back  with  a  bow.  It  came  to  her  sud- 
denly that  they  were  all  bowing,  and  that  the  hubbub 
had  died  in  mid-air.  Through  the  hush,  a  quiet  voice 
spoke. 

"  You  are  eager  in  rising,  my  lords,"  it  said. 

From  the  shelter,  half  cave,  half  bower,  which  had 
been  contrived  amid  the  bushes,  a  warrior  of  mighty 
frame  had  emerged  and  stood  examining  the  scene. 
Though  with  soldierly  hardiness  he  had  taken  his  rest 
in  his  war-harness,  he  was  unhelmed,  and  the  light 
that  revealed  the  protruding  chin  had  no  need  to  pick 
out  the  jewelled  diadem  to  mark  him  as  Edmund 
Ironside.  The  irregularity  was  very  slight — not  large 
enough  to  give  him  a  combative  look  or  to  mar  the 
fine  proportions  of  his  face,  but  it  did  unquestionably 
add  to  his  stately  bearing  an  expression  of  complacency 
that  was  unforgettable. 

He  repeated  his  inquiry:  "What  is  the  amuse- 
ment, my  thanes?  From  the  clamor  which  awakened 
me,  I  had  some  notion  of  an  attack." 

Norman  of  Baddeby  bent  in  a  second  reverence. 
"Your  expectations  are  to  this  degree  fulfilled,  my 
royal  lord,"  he  made  answer.  "  Behold  the  enemy !  " 
Stooping,  he  raised  the  red-cloaked  figure  by  its  collar 
and  held  it  up  in  the  firelight.  As  a  murmur  of  laugh- 

106 


AS   THE   NORNS    DECREE 

ter  went  around,  he  lowered  it  again  and  spoke  more 
gravely.  "  A  hand  needs  not  be  large  to  get  a  hilt 
under  its  gripe,  however.  The  young  wolf  is  of  north- 
ern breed,  —  how  he  penetrated  to  the  heart  of  an  Eng- 
lish camp,  I  cannot  tell,  —  and  there  grows  in  his  spirit 
a  bloodthirsty  disposition.  He  seeks  my  life  because 
in  a  skirmish,  a  few  days  gone  by,  I  had  the  good  luck 
to  kill  his  father.  If  it  —  " 

He  said  more,  but  Randalin  did  not  listen  to  him. 
All  at  once  Sebert  of  Ivarsdale  reached  out,  and  taking 
her  by  her  cloak,  drew  her  gently  to  his  side,  interpos- 
ing his  sword-arm  between  her  and  the  others.  Though 
his  hand  manacled  her  slim  wrists  securely,  the  clasp 
was  more  one  of  protection  than  of  restraint;  and  the 
warm  human  touch  was  like  a  talisman  against  the 
haunting  shadows.  Suddenly  it  came  over  her,  in  a 
burst  of  heavenly  relief,  that  this  hand  had  lifted  the 
burden  of  vengeance  forever.  Even  Fridtjof  could  not 
be  so  unreasonable  as  to  ask  more  of  her,  so  plainly 
was  it  Odin's  will  that  justice  should  be  left  for  Canute. 
She  had  done  her  duty,  and  yet  she  was  free  of  it  — 
free  of  it !  Her  heart  burst  out  singing  within  her,  and 
the  eyes  she  raised  toward  her  captor  were  adoring  in 
their  gratitude. 

The  look  she  met  in  return  was  the  same  look 
of  mingled  strength  and  gentleness  which  had  come 
through  the  starlight  to  answer  her  question.  Once 
again  that  calm  of  weary  trustfulness  settled  over  her. 
Since  he  had  saved  her  from  the  dead,  she  had  no 
doubt  whatever  of  his  ability  to  save  her  from  the 

107 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

living.  Her  head  drooped  against  his  arm,  and  her 
hands,  ceasing  their  struggles,  rested  in  his  grasp  like 
folded  wings. 

It  had  not  taken  a  moment;  the  instant  Norman 
finished  his  explanation,  the  Etheling  was  speaking 
quietly :  "  As  the  Lord  of  Baddeby  says,  King  Edmund, 
it  was  I  who  stayed  the  boy's  hand,  and  it  was  I  also 
who  fetched  him  into  camp.  I  found  him  after  the 
battle,  bleeding  his  life  out  in  the  bushes,  and  I  brought 
him  in  my  arms,  like  a  kitten,  and  dropped  him  down 
by  my  fire.  Waking  in  the  night  and  missing  him,  I 
traced  him  hither.  As  I  have  had  all  to  do  with  him 
in  the  past,  so,  if  you  will  grant  that  I  may  keep  him, 
will  I  take  his  future  upon  me.  With  your  consent,  I 
will  attend  to  it  that  he  does  no  more  mischief." 

A  momentary  cordiality  came  into  the  King's  man- 
ner; as  though  recognizing  it  for  the  first  time,  he 
turned  to  the  figure  across  the  fire  with  a  courteous 
gesture.  "  My  lord  of  Ivarsdale !  I  am  much  be- 
holden to  you.  Had  any  chance  wrought  evil  to 
the  Lord  of  Baddeby  while  under  my  safeguard,  my 
honor  would  have  been  as  deeply  wounded  as  my 
feelings." 

As  he  bowed  in  acknowledgment,  some  embarrass- 
ment was  visible  in  Sebert's  manner ;  but  he  was  spared 
a  reply,  for  after  a  moment's  rubbing  of  his  chin,  the 
King  continued, — 

"  As  regards  the  boy,  however,  there  is  something 
besides  his  knife  to  be  taken  into  consideration.  I  think 
we  run  more  risk  from  his  tongue." 

1 08 


AS    THE    NORNS    DECREE 

The  words  of  the  Earl's  thane  fairly  grazed  the 
heels  of  the  King's  words :  "  The  imp  can  do  no  other- 
wise than  harm,  my  sovereign.  Should  he  bring  his 
tongue  to  Danish  ears,  he  could  cause  the  utmost  evil. 
For  the  safety  of  the  Earl  of  Mercia,  —  ay,  for  your 
own  need,  —  I  entreat  you  to  deliver  the  boy  up  to  my 
keeping." 

"  I  am  no  less  able  than  the  Lord  of  Baddeby  to 
restrain  him,"  the  Etheling  said  with  some  warmth. 
"  If  it  be  your  pleasure,  King  Edmund,  I  will  keep 
him  under  my  hand  until  the  end  of  the  war,  and 
answer  for  his  silence  with  my  life." 

Then  Norman's  eagerness  got  the  better  of  his 
discretion. 

"  Now,  by  Saint  Dunstan,"  he  cried,  "  you  take 
too  much  upon  you,  Lord  of  Ivarsdale!  The  boy's 
life  is  forfeit  to  me,  against  whom  his  crime  was 
directed."  A  grim  look  squared  his  mouth  as  suddenly 
he  stretched  his  hand  past  Sebert  and  caught  the  red 
cloak. 

It  may  have  been  this  which  the  Etheling  had 
foreseen,  for  he  was  not  taken  by  surprise.  Jerking 
up  his  sword-arm,  he  knocked  the  thane's  hand  loose 
with  scant  ceremony. 

"  You  forget  the  law  of  the  battle-field,  Norman 
of  Baddeby,"  he  said  swiftly.  "  The  life  of  my  cap- 
tive is  mine,  and  I  am  the  last  man  to  permit  it  to  be 
taken  because  he  sought  a  just  revenge.  I  know  too 
well  how  it  feels  to  hate  a  father's  murderer."  He 
shot  a  baleful  glance  toward  a  half-seen  figure  that  all 

109 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

this  time  had  stood  motionless  in  the  shadow  behind 
the  King. 

Probably  this  figure  and  the  Earl's  thane  were  the 
only  hearers  he  was  conscious  of,  but  his  tone  left  the 
words  open  to  all  ears.  There  was  a  sudden  indraw- 
ing  of  many  breaths,  followed  by  a  frightened  silence. 
The  only  sound  that  disturbed  it  was  a  growing  rustle 
in  the  bush  around  them,  which  was  explained  when 
the  old  cniht  Morcard  and  some  two-score  armed 
henchmen  and  yeoman-soldiers,  singly  and  in  groups, 
filtered  quietly  through  the  shadows  and  placed  them- 
selves at  their  chief's  back. 

But  though  the  King's  brows  had  met  for  an 
instant  in  a  lowering  arch,  some  second  thought  con- 
trolled him.  When  he  spoke,  his  words  were  even 
gracious : 

"  I  think  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  has  the  right  of 
it.  The  crime  the  boy  purposed  was  not  carried  out; 
and  in  each  case,  Lord  Sebert  was  his  captor.  I  am 
content  to  trust  to  his  wardership." 

Sebert's  frank  face  betrayed  his  surprise  at  the 
complaisance,  but  he  gave  his  pledge  and  his  thanks 
with  what  courtliness  he  could  muster,  and  releasing 
his  passive  prisoner,  pushed  her  gently  into  the  safe- 
keeping of  the  old  cniht.  Yet  he  was  not  so  obtuse 
as  to  step  back,  as  though  the  incident  were  closed; 
he  read  the  King's  inflection  more  correctly  than 
that.  Holding  himself  somewhat  stiff  in  the  tense- 
ness of  his  feelings,  he  stood  his  ground  in  silent 
alertness. 

no 


AS   THE   NORNS    DECREE 

A  rustle  of  uneasiness  crept  the  round  of  the  as- 
sembled nobles.  Only  the  monarch's  bland  composure 
remained  unruffled.  Advancing  with  the  deliberate 
grace  that  so  well  became  his  mighty  person,  he  seated 
himself  upon  a  convenient  boulder  and  signed  the  figure 
in  the  shadow  to  draw  nearer. 

As  it  obeyed,  every  one  of  the  yeomen-soldiers 
strained  his  eyes  in  that  direction,  as  though  hoping 
to  surprise  in  the  great  traitor's  face  some  secret  of 
his  power,  the  power  that  had  made  three  kings  as 
wax  between  his  fingers!  But  just  short  of  the  fire- 
glow  the  Gainer  paused,  and  the  hooded  cloak  which 
shrouded  him  merged  him  hopelessly  into  the  shadow. 
Only  the  hand  that  rested  on  his  sword-hilt  protruded 
into  the  light.  It  was  a  broad  hand,  and  thick-fingered 
as  a  butcher's,  but  it  was  milk-white  and  weighted 
with  massive  rings. 

Meanwhile,  the  King  was  speaking  affably :  "  As 
you  did  not  favor  us  with  your  presence  among  the 
Wise  Men,  my  lord,  it  is  likely  that  you  do  not  know 
of  the  good  luck  which  has  befallen  our  cause.  This 
prudent  Earl,  who  before  the  battle  had  concluded  with 
himself  that  England  had  so  little  to  hope  for  from  our 
reign  that  he  was  willing  to  throw  his  weight  against 
us,  has  found  his  victory  so  without  relish  that  he  has 
become  our  sworn  ally." 

As  he  paused,  —  perhaps  to  leave  space  for  an  an- 
swer, —  the  complacency  of  his  face  was  heightened  by 
a  smile,  faintly  shrewd,  touching  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  But  when  Sebert  limited  his  reply  to  a  re- 

iii 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

spectful  inclination  of  his  head,  the  smile  vanished 
abruptly.  Under  the  affability  there  became  evident  a 
certain  stern  insistence. 

"  In  former  days,  I  think  there  was  some  hostile 
temper  between  the  Earl  and  you.  But  I  expect  you 
will  see  that  under  the  stress  of  a  foreign  war  all  lesser 
strife  must  give  way.  So  I  desire  that  you  will  repeat 
in  my  presence  the  troth  already  plighted  by  these 
others." 

He  made  a  slight  gesture,  and  the  Gainer  took  a 
step  forward.  The  light  that  fell  back  from  his  hooded 
face  played  curiously  about  his  jewelled  hand;  as  it 
rose  from  the  gilded  hilt,  it  could  be  seen  that  to 
remedy  the  bluntness  of  the  thick  fingers  the  nails  had 
been  allowed  to  grow  very  long,  which  gave  it  now,  in 
its  half-curve,  the  look  of  a  claw,  upon  which  the  red 
gems  shone  like  blood-drops. 

Hesitating,  the  Etheling  went  from  red  to  white. 
Then,  with  a  swift  motion,  he  unsheathed  his  sword 
and  stretched  it  out,  point-foremost. 

"  King  Edmund,"  he  said,  "  in  no  other  way  does 
my  hand  go  forth  toward  a  traitor." 

This  time  there  was  no  sound  of  breaths  drawn  in ; 
it  was  as  though  the  whole  world  had  ceased  breath- 
ing. The  sternness  that  had  underlain  the  King's 
manner  rose  slowly  and  spread  over  the  whole  sur- 
face of  his  person,  as  he  drew  himself  up  in  towering 
offence. 

"  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,  bethink  yourself  to  whom  you 
speak!" 

112 


AS   THE   NORNS    DECREE 

He  was  royally  imposing  in  his  displeasure;  the 
Etheling  flushed  like  a  boy  before  his  master;  but  he 
had  his  answer  ready,  and  his  head  was  steadily  erect 
as  he  gave  it. 

"  King  of  the  Angles,  the  right  of  open  speech  has 
belonged  to  my  race  as  long  as  the  right  to  the  crown 
has  belonged  to  yours.  So  my  father's  fathers  spoke 
to  yours  under  the  council-tree,  and  so  I  shall  speak 
to  you  while  I  live." 

Back  in  the  shadow,  each  yeoman  laid  one  hand 
upon  his  weapon,  and  with  the  other,  thrust  an  exult- 
ing thumb  into  his  neighbor's  ribs.  But  they  did  not 
turn  to  look  at  each  other;  every  eye  was  fastened 
upon  the  two  by  the  fire.  Freeman  and  his  leader,  or 
feudal  lord  and  his  dependant?  For  the  moment  they 
stood  forth  as  representatives  of  a  mighty  conflict,  and 
every  breath  hung  upon  their  motions. 

After  a  time  the  King  made  a  slight  movement 
with  his  shoulders. 

"  I  should  have  remembered,"  he  said,  "  that  your 
father  was  ruined  by  rebellion." 

In  a  flash  the  rebel's  son  had  forgotten  boyish  em- 
barrassment. "  Whoso  told  you  that,  royal  lord,  told 
you  lies.  My  father  stood  upon  his  right.  Steel  to 
turn  against  the  Danes,  Ethelred  had  a  right  to  re- 
quire; and  steel  my  father  was  ready  to  pay.  But 
Ethelred  demanded  gold,  and  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale 
would  not  stoop  to  bribe.  Nor  has  it  been  proven 
that  his  policy  was  wrong,"  he  added  under  his 
breath. 

8  113 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Then  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  concerning 
the  position  of  Ethelred's  son.  He  said  with  deliberate 
emphasis,  "  The  only  policy  which  concerns  those  of 
your  station  is  obedience." 

If  there  was  enough  of  the  old  free  blood  left  in 
the  King's  thanes  to  redden  their  cheeks,  that  was  all 
there  was.  But  while  they  stood  in  silence,  a  mutter 
ran  like  a  growl  through  the  ranks  of  yeomen;  the 
gaze  they  bent  upon  their  leader  had  in  it  almost  the 
force  of  a  command. 

He  was  young,  their  chief,  too  young  for  impas- 
sivity. Despite  himself,  his  hands  trembled  with  ex- 
citement. But  there  was  no  tremor  in  his  words. 

"  We  of  Ivarsdale  do  not  profess  such  obedience, 
King  Edmund.  That  is  for  thanes  and  for  the  unfree, 
who  owe  their  all  to  your  generosity.  Our  land  we 
hold  as  our  fathers  held  it  —  from  God's  bounty  and 
the  might  of  our  swords.  When  we  have  paid  the 
three  taxes  of  fort-building  and  bridge-building  and 
field-service,  we  have  paid  all  that  we  owe  to  the 
State." 

At  last  they  stood  defined,  the  first  of  the  feudal 
lords  and  the  last  of  the  odal-born  men.  Even  through 
the  King's  loftiness  it  was  suddenly  borne  in  that,  be- 
hind the  insignificance  of  the  revolt,  loomed  a  mighty 
principle,  mighty  enough  to  merit  force.  For  the  first 
time  he  stooped  to  a  threat,  though  still  it  was  tinged 
with  scorn. 

"  I  observe  that  the  men  of  your  race  have  not 
been  of  great  importance  in  the  land.  It  appears  that 

114 


AS    THE    NORNS    DECREE 

Ethelred  was  able  to  do  without  the  rebel  Lord  of 
Ivarsdale." 

"  I  admit  that  he  was  able  to  lose  his  crown  with- 
out him,"  the  rebel's  son  retorted  swiftly. 

The  King's  wounded  dignity  bled  in  his  cheeks; 
he  was  stung  into  a  movement  that  brought  him  to  his 
feet. 

"  This  is  insufferable !  "  he  cried. 

It  was  evident  that  the  crisis  had  come.  While 
the  Etheling  faced  him  with  a  defiance  that  in  its  utter 
abandon  was  a  little  mad,  a  sensation  as  of  bracing 
muscles  and  setting  teeth  went  around  the  group.  Sev- 
eral of  the  thanes  laid  their  hands  upon  their  swords. 
And  the  half-dozen  ealdormen  present  bent  toward  one 
another  in  hasty  consultation.  At  an  almost  impercep- 
tible sign  from  the  old  cniht,  the  henchmen  made  a 
noiseless  step  nearer  their  master.  There  were  not 
more  than  a  dozen  of  them,  but  behind  them  loomed 
some  two-score  yeomen-soldiers,  with  a  score  more  in 
the  brush  at  their  back;  and  the  faces  of  all  told 
more  plainly  than  words  what  it  would  mean  to  attack 
them. 

But  the  blood  of  Cerdic,  once  fired,  burned  too 
rapidly  for  policy.  Edmund's  jaw  was  set  in  savage 
menace  as  he  turned  and  beckoned  to  his  guard.  Had 
he  spoken  the  words  on  his  lips,  there  is  little  doubt 
what  his  order  would  have  been. 

Interruption  came  from  an  unexpected  quarter. 
Even  as  his  lips  were  opening,  that  white  taloned  hand 
reached  out  of  the  shadow  and  touched  his  arm. 

"5 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"Most  royal  lord!  If  it  may  be  permitted  me?" 
Earl  Edric  said  swiftly. 

His  voice  was  very  low,  and  every  roughness  had 
been  filed  away  until  it  flowed  like  oil.  Upon  the 
King's  wounded  temper  it  appeared  to  fall  as  softly 
as  drops  of  healing  balm.  With  his  mouth  still  set,  he 
paused  and  bent  his  ear.  There  was  a  murmur  of  whis- 
pered words. 

What  they  were  no  one  ever  knew,  and  each  man 
had  a  different  theory;  but  their  result  was  plain  to 
all.  Slowly  Edmund's  knitted  brows  unravelled; 
slowly  his  mouth  relaxed  into  its  wonted  curves.  At 
last  he  had  regained  all  his  lofty  composure  and  turned 
back. 

"  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,  I  am  not  rich  of  time,  and  my 
present  need  is  too  great  to  spare  any  of  it  to  the  chas- 
tising of  rebellious  boys.  Go  back  to  your  toy  king- 
dom, and  lord  it  over  your  serfs  until  I  find  leisure  to 
teach  you  who  is  master."  Making  a  disdainful  ges- 
ture of  dismissal,  he  turned  with  deliberate  grace  and 
entered  into  conversation  with  the  Mercian. 

At  the  moment,  it  is  likely  that  the  young  noble 
would  have  preferred  arrest.  The  utter  scorn  of  word 
and  act  lashed  the  blood  to  his  cheeks  and  the  tears 
to  his  eyes.  With  boyish  passion,  he  snatched  the 
sword  from  its  sheath,  and  breaking  it  in  pieces  across 
his  knee,  flung  the  fragments  clinking  into  the  dead 
embers. 

But  if  he  had  hoped  to  provoke  an  answer,  it  was 
in  vain;  the  King  deigned  him  no  further  notice.  Re- 

116 


AS    THE    NORNS    DECREE 

suming  his  seat,  Edmund  continued  to  talk  quietly  with 
the  Earl,  a  half-smile  playing  about  his  complacent 
chin. 

The  old  cniht  bent  forward  and  whispered  in  his 
chief's  ear:  "Make  haste,  Lord  Sebert;  they  will  be 
cheering  in  a  moment,  the  churls;  so  pleased  are  they 
at  the  thought  of  going  home.  Hasten  with  your 
retiring." 

It  was  a  clever  appeal.  Forgetting,  for  the  mo- 
ment, humiliation  in  responsibility,  the  young  leader 
whirled  to  his  men.  A  gesture,  a  muttered  order,  and 
they  were  drawing  back  among  the  trees  in  silent  re- 
treat. A  few  steps  more,  and  the  bushes  had  blotted 
out  the  Ironside  and  his  thanes. 


117 


CHAPTER    XI 


WHEN    MY   LORD   COMES   HOME   FROM    WAR 

One's  own  house  is  best, 

Small  though  it  be  ; 

At  home  is  every  one  his  own  master. 

Bleeding  at  heart  is  he 

Who  has  to  ask 

For  food  at  every  mealtide. 

HAVAMAL. 

,LOWLY  the  bleak  light 
rmed  into  golden  radi- 
ance, and  the  touch  of  dawn 
strung  the  scattered  bird- 
notes  into  a  chain  of  joy- 
ous song.  Passing  at  last 
from  the  forest  shades,  the 
men  of  Ivarsdale  came  out 
into  the  grassy  lane-like 

oad  that  wound  away  over 

the  Middlesex  hills. 

The  Destroyer  had  not  passed  this  way,  it  seemed, 
for  the  oat-fields  stretched  before  them  in  unbroken 
silvery  sheen;  and  the  straight  young  corn  dared  to 
rustle  its  green  ribbons  boastfully.  Fowls  still  uncap- 
tured  crowed  lustily  in  adjacent  barnyards;  and  now 

118 


WHEN  MY  LORD  COMES  HOME  FROM  WAR 

and  again,  sweet  as  echoes  from  elfin  horns,  came  the 
tinkling  music  of  cow-bells.  Here  and  there,  the  little 
shock-headed  boys  who  were  driving  their  charges 
afield  paused  knee-deep  in  rosy  clover  to  watch  the 
band  ride  by. 

"  Yon  must  be  a  mighty  warrior,"  they  whispered 
as  they  stared  at  the  sober  young  leader.  "  Take  no- 
tice how  his  eyes  gaze  straight  ahead,  as  though  he 
were  seeking  more  people  to  overcome."  And  they 
spoke  enviously  of  the  red-cloaked  page  who  sat  on 
the  croup  of  the  leader's  white  charger. 

"  See  the  sword  he  wears  in  his  gay  clothes. 
Likely  he  also  has  been  in  battle.  He  must  needs  be 
happy  who  can  strike  out  into  the  world  like  that." 
Envying,  they  gazed  after  him  until  the  horses'  hoofs 
threw  up  a  yellow  wall  between. 

They  would  have  opened  their  wide  mouths  wider 
had  they  known  that  the  red-cloaked  page  was  look- 
ing wistfully  at  them  and  their  kine  and  the  nodding 
clover. 

"  It  must  be  very  enjoyable  to  wander  all  day  in 
the  peace  of  the  meadows  and  hear  nothing  louder  than 
cow-bells,"  she  was  thinking.  "  It  is  good  to  see  crea- 
tures that  no  man  is  stabbing  or  doing  harm  to." 

Through  warm  sunshine,  tempered  by  fresh  breezes, 
they  came  yet  deeper  into  the  drowsy  farmland.  Grad- 
ually the  yeomen-soldiers,  who  had  been  wrangling 
over  the  mystery  of  Edric's  actions,  dropped  one  by 
one  into  lazy  silence,  or  set  their  tongues  to  whistling 
cleverly  turned  answers  to  the  bird-calls  in  the  hedges. 

119 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Another  mile,  and  from  somewhere  in  the  fields  came 
the  swinging  chant  of  a  ploughman,  as  he  turned  the 
soil  between  the  rows  of  rustling  corn,  — 

"  Hail,  Mother  Earth,  thou  feeder  of  folk  ! 
Be  thou  growing,  by  goodness  of  God, 
Filled  with  fodder,  the  folk  to  feed." 

Like  the  unbinding  of  a  spell,  the  words  fell  upon 
the  farmer-soldiers.  Dropping  every  other  topic,  they 
began  to  argue  over  the  crops;  and  after  that  they 
could  not  pass  a  harmless  calf  tethered  to  a  crab-tree 
that  they  did  not  quarrel  over  the  breed,  nor  start  a 
drove  of  grunting  swine  out  of  the  mast  but  they  must 
lay  wagers  on  the  weight. 

Running  wild  in  the  animation,  it  was  not  long 
before  the  clamor  caught  up  with  the  Etheling  where 
he  rode  before  them  in  sober  reflection.  He  smiled 
faintly  as  he  caught  the  burden  of  the  disjointed 
phrases. 

"...  Twelve  stone;  I  will  peril  my  head  upon 
it!"  ...  "Yorkshire,  I  tell  you,  Yorkshire."  ...  "A 
fortnight?  It  will  be  ready  in  a  week,  or  I  have  never 
grown  barley  corn !  " 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  a  tree-toad  can  change  color 
more  easily,"  he  observed  to  the  old  cniht  who  rode  at 
his  side.  "  That  Englishmen  are  not  stout  fighters,  no 
man  can  say,  but  the  love  of  it  is  not  in  their  breasts ; 
while  with  Northmen  —  " 

"With  Northmen,"  Morcard  added,  "to  fight  is 
to  eat." 

120 


WHEN  MY  LORD  COMES  HOME  FROM  WAR 

Another  faint  smile  touched  Sebert's  mouth  as 
he  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  red-cloaked  boy. 
"  After  seeing  this  sprout,  that  is  easy  to  believe.  Ex- 
cept that  time  alone  when  a  two-year-old  colt  kicked 
me  on  the  head,  I  have  never  had  my  life  threatened 
by  so  young  a  thing." 

He  grew  grave  again  as  his  glance  rested  on  his 
captive.  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me  something,"  he  said 
presently.  "  You  were  Canute's  page ;  I  saw  that  you 
accompanied  him  in  battle.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what 
he  is  like  in  his  temper." 

"  It  would  be  more  easy  to  tell  you  what  he  is 
unlike,"  Randalin  answered  slowly ;  "  for  in  no  way 
whatever  is  he  like  your  King  Edmund."  She  sat 
awhile  in  silence,  her  eyes  absently  following  the 
course  of  the  wind  over  a  slope  of  bending  grain.  At 
the  foot,  it  caught  a  clump  of  willow-trees  so  that  they 
flashed  with  hidden  silver  and  tossed  their  slender  arms 
like  dancers.  "  I  think  this  is  the  difference,  to  tell  it 
shortly,"  she  said  at  last ;  "  while  it  sometimes  hap- 
pens that  Canute  is  driven  by  necessity  or  evil  coun- 
sels to  act  deceitfully  toward  others,  he  is  always 
honest  in  his  own  mind ;  while  your  Edmund,  —  I 
think  he  lies  to  himself  also." 

Morcard  gave  out  a  dry  chuckle.  "  By  Saint  Cuth- 
bert,"  he  muttered,  "  too  much  has  not  been  told  con- 
cerning the  sharpness  of  children !  " 

But  the  Etheling  made  no  answer  whatever.  After 
he  had  ridden  a  long  time  staring  away  across  the  fields, 
he  met  the  old  man's  eyes  gravely. 

121 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

"  It  is  not  alone  because  I  am  sore  under  his 
tongue,  Morcard.  Were  he  what  I  had  thought  him, 
I  would  remain  quiet  under  harder  words.  But  he  is 
not  worth  enduring  from;  there  is  not  enough  good  in 
him  to  outweigh  the  evil." 

Old  Morcard  said  thoughtfully:  "The  tree  of 
Cerdic  has  borne  many  nuts  with  prickly  rinds  in 
former  times,  but  there  has  been  wont  to  be  good  meat 
inside.  Since  Ethelred,  I  have  been  in  fear  that  the 
tree  is  dying  at  the  root." 

They  swung  over  another  piece  of  the  road  in 
silence,  when  the  young  man  started  up  and  shook 
himself  impatiently. 

"Wel-a-way!  What  use  to  think  of  it?  For  the 
present,  at  least,  I  am  a  lordless  man.  Let  us  speak 
of  the  defences  we  must  begin  to  raise  against  Ed- 
mund's coming." 

While  they  discussed  watch-towers  and  barriers, 
the  horses  took  them  along  at  a  swinging  pace.  The 
heath-clad  upland  over  which  they  were  passing 
sloped  into  another  fertile  valley,  through  which  a 
lily-padded  stream  ran  between  rows  of  drooping  wil- 
lows. Suddenly  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  broke  off  with 
an  exclamation. 

"  It  was  not  in  my  mind  that  we  could  see  the  old 
forked  elm  from  here.  Hey,  comrades !  "  he  called  over 
his  shoulder.  "  Yonder  —  to  the  left  —  the  old  land- 
mark! Do  you  see?"  His  glance,  as  it  came  back, 
took  in  his  captive.  "  The  first  bar  of  your  cage,  my 
hawk.  Yonder  is  the  first  boundary  of  Ivarsdale." 

122 


WHEN  MY  LORD  COMES  HOME  FROM  WAR 

Every  man  started  up  in  his  saddle,  and  the  cheers 
they  had  held  back  upon  leaving  camp  burst  forth  now 
with  added  zest.  Peering  over  her  captor's  shoulder, 
Randalin  looked  forward  anxiously. 

Below  the  plain  in  whose  centre  the  old  elm  held 
up  its  blasted  top  to  be  silvered  by  the  sun,  the  land 
dipped  abruptly  toward  the  river,  to  rise  beyond  in  a 
long  low  hill.  Rolling  green  meadows  lay  at  its  foot, 
and  warm  brown  fields  dotted  with  thatched  farm- 
houses; and  its  sides  were  checkered  with  patches  of 
woodland  and  stretches  of  golden  barley.  Just  below 
the  crest,  the  tower  of  the  Lords  of  Ivarsdale  reared 
its  gray  walls  above  the  surrounding  greenery.  Far 
away,  a  speck  through  the  dark  foliage,  the  great  Lon- 
don road  gleamed  white ;  but  wooded  hills  made  a  shel- 
tering hedge  between,  and  all  around  spread  the  great 
beech  forest  that  fostered  the  markmen's  herds.  It 
was  a  kingdom  to  itself,  with  the  light  slanting  warmly 
upon  its  fertile  slopes  and  the  forest  standing  like  a 
strong  army  at  its  back. 

Because  it  was  so  peacefully  lovely,  and  because 
of  her  utter  weariness,  tears  welled  up  under  the  girl's 
heavy  lids  as  she  looked. 

She  said  unsteadily,  "  Saw  I  never  a  fairer  cage, 
lord." 

But  the  Etheling's  eager  glance  had  travelled  on; 
for  the  first  time  the  sun  was  shining  out  brightly  in 
his  face. 

"  The  sight  has  more  cheer  than  has  wine,"  he  said. 
"  I  cannot  comprehend  my  folly  in  wanting  to  leave  it. 

123 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

To  live  one's  own  master  on  one's  own  land,  that  is  the 
only  life ! "  He  looked  back  at  the  yeomen  with  a  sudden 
smile.  "Noise!"  he  ordered.  " Cheer  again !  it  expresses 
the  state  of  my  feelings.  And  let  your  horn  sound 
merrily,  Kendred,  that  they  may  know  we  are  coming." 

Amid  a  joyous  tumult,  they  swept  over  the  terrace- 
like  plain  and  broke  ranks  around  the  old  elm.  Evi- 
dently it  was  the  disbanding  place,  for  the  yeomen- 
soldiers,  one  and  all,  came  crowding  around  their 
leader  to  press  his  hand  and  speak  a  parting  word. 

"  You  have  fought  with  the  sword  of  your  tongue, 
chief !"..."  as  worthy  a  battle  as  when  you  strove 
against  the  Danes !"..."  The  spirit  of  the  old  days 
is  not  dead  while  you  are  alive,  Oswald's  son."  .  .  . 
"  None  now  are  born  thereto  save  you  alone ! "  .  .  . 
"  Till  that  time  when  you  send  for  us,  my  chief." 
..."  One  eye  on  our  ploughs  and  one  watching  for 
your  messenger."  .  .  .  "God  keep  you  in  safety,  young 
lord!" 

In  the  meadows  beyond  the  stream,  little  shepherd 
boys  had  heard  the  horn  and  were  swarming,  spider- 
like,  over  the  hedges,  sending  up  shrill  shouts.  And 
now  women  came  running  across  the  fields  from  the 
farmhouses,  waving  their  aprons.  More  children  raced 
behind  them;  and  then  a  dozen  old  men,  limping  and 
hobbling  on  crutches  and  canes.  A  moment,  and  they 
were  all  over  the  foot-bridge  and  up  the  slope ;  and  the 
sweet  clamor  of  greetings  was  added  to  the  tumult. 
Now  it  was  a  crowd  of  little  brothers  throwing  them- 
selves upon  a  big  one;  now  a  blooming  lass  flinging 

124 


WHEN  MY  LORD  COMES  HOME  FROM  WAR 

her  arms  around  her  sweetheart's  neck;  and  again,  a 
farmer's  little  daughter  leaping  joyously  into  her 
father's  embrace. 

In  the  midst  of  it,  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  looked 
around  and  found  that  Fridtjof  the  page  was  crying  as 
though  his  heart  would  break. 

"  How !  Tears,  my  Beowulf!"  he  said  in  amazement. 

She  was  far  beyond  words,  the  girl  in  the  page's 
dress ;  she  could  only  bury  her  face  deeper  in  her  slen- 
der hands  and  try  to  control  the  sobs  that  shook  her 
from  head  to  foot. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  the  young  man's  kind- 
ness divined  the  source  of  her  pain.  He  spoke  a  quick 
word  to  those  behind,  and  waving  aside  those  before, 
touched  spur  to  the  white  horse.  In  a  moment,  the 
good  steed  had  borne  them  out  of  the  crowd  and  down 
the  slope,  followed  only  by  the  old  cnihts  and  the 
dozen  armed  retainers. 

As  the  hoofs  rang  hollow  on  the  little  bridge  that 
spanned  the  stream,  the  Etheling  spoke  again  in  his 
voice  of  careless  gentleness.  "  It  is  easy  to  enter  into 
the  sorrowfulness  of  your  heart,  youngling,  and  I  think 
it  no  dishonor  to  your  courage  that  you  should  mourn 
your  kin  with  tears;  yet  I  pray  you  to  lay  aside  as 
much  grief  as  you  can.  Bear  in  mind  that  no  dungeon 
is  gaping  for  you." 

She  could  not  speak  to  him  yet,  but  when  he  put 
his  hand  back  to  feel  of  a  strap,  she  bent  and  touched 
the  brown  fingers  gratefully  with  her  lips.  The  an- 
swer seemed  to  renew  his  kindly  impulse. 

"5 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  After  all,  you  should  not  feel  so  strange  among 
us,"  he  said  lightly.  "  Do  you  know  that  it  was  one 
of  your  own  countrymen  who  built  the  Tower?  Ivar 
Wide-Fathomer  he  was  named,  whence  it  is  still  called 
Ivarsdale.  He  was  of  the  stock  of  Lodbrok,  they  say; 
and  it  is  said,  too,  that  one  of  his  race  is  even  now  with 
Canute.  Since  Alfred,  my  fathers  have  had  possession 
of  it,  but  it  is  Danish-built,  every  stone.  You  must 
make  believe  that  you  are  coming  home."  So  he  spun 
on,  carelessly  good-humored,  as  they  climbed  the  wind- 
ing hill-path. 

Across  the  ditch  and  through  the  wide-open  gate 
in  the  moss-grown  palisade,  and  they  came  into  a 
broad  grassy  space  that  was  more  like  a  lawn  than 
a  court.  Ahead  of  them  rose  the  massive  three- 
storied  tower,  built  of  mighty  gray  stones  without 
softening  wings  or  adorning  spires,  beautiful  only  in 
its  mantling  ivy.  From  the  great  door  in  its  side  a 
crowd  of  serfs  came  running,  ducking  grinning  salu- 
tations; and  they  were  followed  by  a  half-dozen  old 
warriors.  Seized  by  a  boyish  whim,  their  master 
rode  past  them  with  no  more  than  a  wave  of  his 
hand. 

"  If  we  make  haste,  it  may  be  that  we  can  take 
Hildelitha  and  Father  Ingulph  by  surprise,"  he  laughed, 
leaping  down  on  the  crumbling  doorstep  and  pulling 
his  captive  with  him. 

In  the  tunnel-like  arch  of  the  great  entrance 
they  met  another  throng,  but  he  shook  them  off  with 
good-natured  impatience  and  hurried  through  the  great 

126 


WHEN  MY  LORD  COMES  HOME  FROM  WAR 

guard-room  to  the  winding  stairs,  that  were  cut  out 
of  the  core  of  the  massive  stones.  Up  and  across 
another  mighty  hall,  and  then  up  again,  and  into  a 
great  women's-room,  full  of  looms  and  spinning-wheels, 
where  a  buxom  English  housewife  and  half-a-dozen 
red-cheeked  maids  were  gaping  over  their  distaffs  at 
the  tale  a  jolly  old  monk  was  telling  between  swallows 
of  wine. 

He  choked  in  his  cup  when  he  saw  who  stood  laugh- 
ing in  the  doorway,  and  there  was  a  great  screaming 
and  scrambling  among  his  audience.  Knocking  over 
her  spinning-wheel  to  get  to  him,  the  woman  Hildelitha 
threw  her  arms  around  her  young  lord's  neck  and  gave 
him  a  hearty  smack  on  either  cheek;  while  the  fat 
monk  sputtered  blessings  between  his  paroxysms  of 
coughing,  and  the  six  blooming  girls  made  a  scream- 
ing circle  around  them. 

Though  he  endured  it  amiably  enough,  the  Ethel- 
ing  appeared  in  some  haste  to  offer  a  diversion.  He 
evaded  a  second  embrace  by  turning  and  beckoning 
to  his  shrinking  captive. 

"  Save  a  little  of  your  greeting  for  my  guest,  good 
nurse.  Behold  the  fire-eating  Dane  that  I  have  cap- 
tured with  my  own  right  arm !  "  As  the  red-cloaked 
figure  still  hung  back,  he  pulled  it  gently  forward  until 
the  light  of  the  notched  candles  fell  brightly  on  the 
face,  pitifully  white  for  all  its  blood-stains,  in  the  frame 
of  tumbled  black  tresses. 

"A  Dane?"  the  women  cried  shrilly;  then,  with 
equal  unanimity,  burst  out  laughing. 

127 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

Randalin  drew  a  little  nearer  the  Etheling's  shel- 
tering side.  He  said  half  reprovingly,  half  freakishly, 
"  It  would  not  be  well  for  you  to  anger  him.  He  is 
the  page  of  Canute  himself,  a  real  Wandering  Wolf, 
and  recks  not  whom  he  attacks.  He  came  near  to 
spitting  Oslac  at  the  battle,  and  even  threatened  me." 

"  Oslac !  "  screamed  one  of  the  serving-maids,  turn- 
ing very  red.  "  The  murderous  little  fiend !  " 

"  He  deserves  to  have  his  neck  wrung ! "  two  more 
cried  out. 

And  Father  Ingulph  cleared  his  throat  loudly. 
"  Well-fitting  is  your  charity  both  toward  my  teach- 
ings and  your  heart,  my  son ;  and  yet  —  Discretion  is 
the  mother  of  other  virtues.  To  bring  one  of  those 
roving  children  of  Satan  into  a  Christian  household 
will  lay  upon  me  a  responsibility  which  —  which  —  " 
He  paused  to  take  a  mouthful  of  wine  and  eye  the 
stranger  over  the  goblet  rim  with  much  disfavor. 

While  the  maids  whispered  excitedly  in  one  an- 
other's ears,  Hildelitha  began  to  sniff  behind  her 
apron. 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  wanted  to  bring  him  home, 
Lord  Sebert.  You  know  that  Danes  are  odious  to  me 
since  my  husband,  of  holy  memory,  fell  under  their 
axes  —  most  detestable  —  Yet  I  would  not  anger  you, 
my  honey-sweet  lord,"  she  broke  off  abruptly. 

For  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  had  suddenly  grown 
very  stiff  and  grave;  there  was  something  curiously 
haughty  in  the  quiet  distinctness  of  his  words. 

"  I  have  brought  the  boy  home  by  reason  of  the 
128 


WHEN  MY  LORD  COMES  HOME  FROM  WAR 

King's  command  that  he  be  held  in  safety  —  and  be- 
cause it  was  my  pleasure  to  succor  him.  And  I  have 
fetched  him  up  here  in  order  that  you  should  supply 
his  needs,  being  distressed  for  want  of  food  and  drink 
and  healing  salves.  I  am  not  pleased  that  you  should 
meet  my  wishes  in  so  light  and  cold  a  manner.  I  de- 
sire your  love  will,  as  is  becoming,  receive  him  kindly 
and  charitably." 

He  raised  his  hand  as  the  pertest  of  the  maids 
would  have  answered  him,  and  there  followed  an  un- 
comfortable pause.  Then  seven  gowns  swept  the  reed- 
strewn  floor  as  seven  courtesies  fell,  and  Hildelitha 
thrust  out  her  palm  to  give  the  pert  maid,  a  resounding 
box  on  the  ear. 

"  You  have  heard  your  master,  hussy !  Why  do 
you  not  exert  yourself  to  bring  food?  Elswitha,  if  you 
do  not  want  the  mate  to  that,  fetch  the  salve  out  of  my 
chest." 

In  an  instant  all  was  confusion;  under  cover  of  it 
the  fat  monk  returned  to  his  cup  and  the  young  master 
walked  quietly  to  the  door. 

Homesick  and  heartsick,  the  waif  in  the  page's 
dress  was  left  facing  the  unfriendly  glances.  Even  in 
her  bravest  days,  she  had  never  known  what  it  was  to 
be  disliked,  and  now —  !  Suddenly  she  limped  after 
her  friend  and  caught  at  his  cloak. 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,"  she  cried.  "  I  beseech  it 
of  you !  I  want  not  their  service." 

After  a  moment,  the  Etheling  threw  his  arm  pro- 
tectingly  around  the  boyish  figure. 

9  129 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

"  I  do  not  blame  you,  poor  youngling,"  he  said. 
"  I  was  wrong  to  treat  you  as  a  child  when  you  were 
bred  up  as  a  man.  You  shall  have  a  bed  in  the  closet 
off  my  chamber,  and  they  shall  not  enter  except  as  you 
will  it.  And  you  shall  eat  off  my  plate  and  drink  from 
my  cup.  Come !  " 


130 


CHAPTER    XII 


THE    FOREIGN    PAGE 

Early  should  rise 

He  who  has  few  workers, 

And  go  his  work  to  see  to ; 

Greatly  is  he  retarded 

Who  sleeps  the  morn  away ; 

Wealth  half  depends  on  energy. 

HAVAMAL. 

|T  was  August,  when  Mother 
Earth  had  nearly  completed 
er  task  of  providing  for  her 
children,  and  the  excitement 
f  a  mighty  work  drawing 
to  its  close  was  in  the  air; 
when  the  sun-warmed  still- 
jness  was  a-quiver  with  the 
pulse  of  growing  things 
oming  to  their  strength, 
and  every  cloudless  day  held  in  its  golden  heart  a 
song  of  exultation.  The  grassy  space  around  the 
Tower,  which  was  wont  to  be  thronged  with  joyous 
idlers,  was  to-day  almost  deserted.  A  single  groom 
lounged  in  the  shade  of  the  wide-spreading  trees  as  he 
kept  a  lazy  eye  on  the  croppings  of  two  saddled  horses, 
and  an  endless  chain  of  fagot-laden  serfs  plodded  joy- 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

lessly  across  the  open.  On  one  side  of  the  great  en- 
trance arch  a  half-dozen  of  the  manor  poor  gabbled  and 
basked  in  the  sun  while  they  waited  to  receive  their 
daily  dole  of  food;  on  the  other,  a  dark-locked  foreign 
page  sat  on  the  mossy  step  abiding  the  coming  of  his 
master. 

Leaning  back  with  one  arm  bent  carelessly  behind 
his  head  and  one  hand  caressing  a  shaggy  hound  that 
pressed  against  his  knee,  the  boy's  far-away  gaze  was 
designed  to  intimate  his  haughty  oblivion  to  the  castle- 
world  in  general  and  the  movements  of  the  almsfolk 
in  particular.  Seeing  which,  the  people  on  the  other 
side  of  the  step  had  laid  aside  any  reserve  they  might 
have  felt  and  were  indulging  their  curiosity  with  cheer- 
ful freedom. 

"  Six  weeks  he  has  been  here,  and  this  is  the  first 
good  look  I  have  had  at  him,"  the  buzzing  whispers 
ran.  "  It  is  said  that  they  were  obliged  to  catch  him 
between  shields  before  they  could  take  him."  .  .  . 
"  Such  hair  on  a  Dane  is  more  rare  than  a  white 
crow."  ..."  I  believe  no  good  of  any  one  with  locks 
of  that  color."  ..."  Tibby,  the  weaving-woman,  says 
he  is  skilful  in  magic."  ..."  It  is  by  reason  of  that, 
that  he  has  become  my  lord's  darling."  ..."  Why  is 
he  not  in  the  hall,  then,  while  the  ethel-born  is  sitting 
at  table?  "  .  .  .  "  Perhaps  his  luck  is  beginning  to  fail 
him."  .  .  .  "Perhaps  he  has  fallen  out  of  favor." 

The  two  old  men  who  offered  these  last  sugges- 
tions chuckled  with  malicious  enjoyment,  and  two  of 
the  old  women  mumbled  with  their  toothless  gums  as 

132 


THE   FOREIGN    PAGE 

though  tasting  sweet  morsels;  but  the  third  drew  her- 
self up  with  a  kind  of  grotesque  coquetry. 

"  You  can  tell  by  the  green  silk  of  his  tunic  that 
he  is  of  some  quality,"  she  reproved  them.  "  Danish- 
men  are  ever  the  ones  to  adorn  themselves.  It  occurs 
to  my  mind  how,  in  Edgar's  time,  when  I  was  a  girl, 
one  was  quartered  in  my  father's  house.  He  changed 
his  raiment  once  a  day  and  bathed  every  Sunday.  I 
used  to  comb  his  yellow  hair  when  I  took  in  his  ale, 
of  a  morning."  Long  after  her  voice  had  passed  into 
a  rattle,  she  stood  in  a  simpering  revery,  her  palsied 
hands  resting  heavily  upon  her  stick,  her  blinking  eyes 
fixed  on  the  picturesque  young  foreigner  musing  in  the 
sunshine. 

Then  the  voice  of  the  steward  sounded  sharply  in 
the  archway.  There  was  an  eager  catching  up  of  bags 
and  baskets,  a  shuffling  forward  of  unsteady  feet,  and 
the  goody  came  out  of  her  day-dream  to  throw  herself 
into  the  strife  over  a  jar  of  peppered  broth. 

The  Danish  page  bent  to  pillow  a  very  red  cheek 
on  the  soft  cushion  of  the  dog's  head,  then  drew  back 
and  straightened  himself  stiffly  as  a  strapping  serving- 
lass,  flagon-laden,  came  out  of  the  door  behind  him. 
She  saw  the  motion  and  looked  down  with  a  teasing 
laugh.  "  Aha,  young  Fridtjof !  How  do  you  like  being 
sent  to  cool  your  heels  on  the  doorstep  while  your 
master  eats?  What!  I  think  that  the  next  time  you 
thrust  your  foot  out  to  trip  me  up  as  I  hand  my 
lord  his  ale,  you  will  attend  to  keeping  it  under  your 
stool." 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Young  Fridtjof  regarded  her  with  a  kind  of  right- 
eous indignation.  "  And  I  think  that  the  next  time  you 
will  look  where  you  are  going,  even  if  it  happen  that 
it  is  Lord  Sebert's  ale  you  are  bearing.  Silly  jades, 
that  cannot  come  nigh  him  without  biting  your  lips  or 
sparkling  your  eyes !  I  wonder  he  does  not  clap  masks 
over  your  faces." 

"And  I  wonder  he  does  not  clap  rods  to  your  back," 
the  lass  retorted  with  sudden  spite.  She  flounced  past 
him  down  the  step,  on  her  way  to  the  great  lead-roofed 
storehouse  that  flanked  the  forest  side  of  the  Tower. 

The  boy  looked  after  her  sternly.  "It  is  likely 
that  you  will  be  less  pert  of  tongue  after  I  tell  what  I 
found  out  in  the  corn-bins  yesterday,"  he  said. 

The  maid  whirled.  "  What  did  you  find  out,  you 
mischief-full  brat?" 

He  continued  to  stroke  the  dog's  head  in  dignified 
silence. 

"  If  you  mean  the  —  the  brown-cloaked  beggar,  let 
me  inform  you  that  that  is  naught." 

Busying  himself  with  pulling  burrs  from  the 
hound's  ears,  the  page  began  to  hum  softly. 

She  came  a  step  nearer,  and  her  voice  wheedled. 
"  It  was  only  that  he  was  distressed  for  want  of  drink, 
poor  fellow,  and  followed  me  into  the  storehouse  when 
he  saw  me  go  in  to  fill  the  master's  flagon.  It  was 
naught  but  a  swallow.  My  lord  would  be  the  last  to 
grudge  a  harmless  body  —  " 

"Harmless? "the  page  said  sternly.  "Did  I  not  hear 
him  tell  you  the  same  as  that  he  was  an  English  spy?  " 


THE   FOREIGN    PAGE 

The  girl  abandoned  the  last  shred  of  her  dignity, 
to  come  and  stand  before  him,  nervously  fingering  her 
apron.  "  For  the  dear  saints'  sake,  let  no  one  hear  you 
say  that,  good  Fridtjof!  Alas,  how  you  have  got  it 
twisted!  He  is  an  Englishman  who  bent  his  head  for 
food  in  the  evil  days.  And  now  they  that  bought  him 
will  not  set  him  loose,  so  he  has  cast  off  their  yoke  and 
fled  to  the  Danes  to  get  freedom  and  fortune.  He  was 
on  his  way  to  join  your  people  when  he  stopped  to  beg 
food.  I  could  not  be  so  hard  of  heart  as  to  refuse, 
though  Hildelitha's  hand  would  be  hot  about  my  ears 
did  she  suspect  it.  Say  that  you  will  hold  your  tongue, 
sweet  lad,  and  I  will  make  boot  with  anything  you  like." 

He  was  very  deliberate  about  it,  the  page,  pursing 
his  rosy  mouth  into  any  number  of  judicial  puckers; 
but  at  last  he  conceded,  "  Now,  since  you  know  for 
certain  that  he  is  not  one  of  Edmund's  spies,  —  and 
you  are  so  penitent,  as  is  right," — pausing,  he  regarded 
her  severely,  —  "  if  I  do  promise,  will  you  make  a  bar- 
gain to  put  an  end  to  your  silly  behavior  toward  my 
lord?  Will  you  undertake  to  deliver  his  dishes  into 
my  hands,  and  leave  it  for  me  to  pass  his  cup?  " 

"Yes,  in  truth;  by  Father  Ingulph's  book!"  the 
maid  cried,  wringing  her  hands. 

The  page  made  her  a  magnanimous  gesture.  "  In 
that  case  I  will  not  be  so  mean  as  to  refuse  you,"  he 
consented.  And  he  sat  smiling  to  himself  in  sly  con- 
tent after  she  had  hurried  away. 

Emboldened  by  that  smile,  the  dog  suddenly  laid 
aside  his  soberness  of  demeanor.  Pouncing  upon  a 

135 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

fagot  which  had  fallen  from  one  of  the  loads,  he 
brought  it  in  his  teeth,  with  shining  eyes  and  much 
frantic  tail-wagging,  and  rubbed  it  against  his  friend's 
knee.  He  had  not  miscalculated.  The  boy's  smile 
deepened  easily  into  a  laugh,  and  he  leaped  to  his  feet 
to  accept  the  challenge.  Seizing  the  stick,  he  put  all 
the  strength  of  his  lithesome  body  into  an  effort  to 
make  off  with  it,  while  the  great  hound  braced  him- 
self, with  a  rapture  of  rumbling  growls  and  short  de- 
lighted barks.  So  they  tussled,  back  and  forth,  this 
way  and  that,  amid  a  merry  tumult  of  barking  and 
laughter,  —  such  a  tumult  that  neither  heard  the  steps 
that  both  were  waiting  for,  when  at  last  those  steps 
came  briskly  through  the  archway.  The  first  they 
knew  of  it,  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  was  standing  under 
the  lintel,  chatting  with  those  who  came  behind  him. 

With  lips  yet  parted  by  their  breathless  laughter, 
the  lad  straightened  quickly  from  his  sport,  and  stood 
shaking  back  his  tumbling  curls  and  mopping  his  hot 
face,  in  which  the  rich  color  glowed  through  the  tanned 
skin  like  the  velvety  red  on  a  golden  peach.  When, 
for  one  flashing  instant,  they  encountered  a  keen  glance 
from  the  young  lord,  the  color  deepened,  and  the  iris- 
blue  eyes  suddenly  brimmed  over  with  mischievous 
sparkles ;  then  the  black  lashes  were  lowered  demurely, 
and  the  page,  retreating  to  his  place  beside  the  step, 
signified  only  deference  and  decorum. 

Followed  by  old  Morcard  and  the  fat  monk,  the 
Etheling  descended  from  the  doorway  and  stood  on  the 
broad  step,  shading  his  eyes  from  the  glare  of  brilliant 

136 


THE   FOREIGN   PAGE 

light  while  he  looked  about  him  with  evident  pleasure 
in  the  fairness  of  the  day. 

"  Now  is  the  time  to  lay  by  a  store  of  sweet 
memories  against  the  stress  of  winter  weather,"  he 
said.  "  Whither  do  you  go  to  harvest  the  sunshine, 
father?" 

The  monk  pulled  his  round  red  face  to  a  devout 
length.  "  Why,  there  is  a  good  woman  at  the  other 
end  of  the  dale,  my  son,  that  labors  under  a  weakness 
of  her  limbs;  and  I  have  bethought  me  that  it  would 
be  a  Christian  act  to  fetch  her  this  holy  relique  I  wear 
about  my  neck,  that  she  may  lay  it  upon  the  afflicted 
members  and  perhaps,  aided  by  my  exhortations,  ex- 
perience some  relief." 

"  If  the  question  may  be  permitted  me,  whither 
do  you  betake  yourself,  my  lord  ? "  the  old  cniht 
asked. 

With  the  light  wand  he  carried,  the  young  man 
made  a  gesture  quite  around  the  horizon.  "  Every- 
where and  nowhere.  After  I  have  been  to  see  what 
they  are  doing  with  that  portion  of  the  palisade  which 
I  bade  them  repair  as  soon  as  they  had  finished  the 
barrier,  I  am  —  " 

"That  is  something  that  had  clean  fallen  out  of 
my  mind  to  tell  you,  Lord  Sebert,"  Morcard  spoke  up 
hastily.  "  Yesterday,  before  you  had  got  in  from  hunt- 
ing, Kendred  of  Hazelford  came,  as  spokesman  for  the 
rest,  to  say  that  inasmuch  as  the  Barn  Month  is  well 
begun,  it  will  not  be  possible  for  them  to  labor  more 
upon  the  building;  and,  by  your  leave,  they  will  put 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

off  this,  which  is  not  pressing,  until  after  the  time  of 
the  harvest." 

It  was  several  moments  before  the  Etheling  spoke, 
and  then  his  voice  was  noticeably  deliberate.  "  Oh ! " 
he  said,  "  so  they  ask  my  leave,  but  stop  at  their 
pleasure?  " 

"  My  lord !  "  —  the  old  man  looked  at  him  in  sur- 
prise — "  they  act  only  according  to  custom.  Surely 
you  would  not  have  them  neglect  the  harvest,  which 
waits  no  man's  leisure,  to  put  to  their  hands  as  laborers 
when  there  is  no  present  need,  now  that  they  have  com- 
pleted the  barriers  by  the  stream?  What  present  harm 
because  the  drain  off  the  hill  has  rotted  the  palisade? 
All  of  that  part  is  toward  the  forest.  How?  Do  you 
expect  some  Grendel  of  the  March  to  fall  upon  us  from 
that  direction?" 

The  Etheling  smiled  against  his  will.  "  Our  foe 
would  needs  be  a  Grendel  to  reach  us  from  that  side." 
He  struck  the  wand  sharply  against  his  riding-boots. 
"  Oh,  it  is  not  that  I  think  the  work  so  pressing." 

"  In  the  Fiend's  name,  what  then  is  the  cause  of 
your  distemper?  "  Father  Ingulph  inquired  impatiently, 
as  he  finished  the  girding-up  of  his  robes  and  picked 
up  his  staff  preparatory  to  setting  forth. 

After  a  moment,  the  young  noble  began  to  laugh. 
"  Why,  to  tell  it  frankly,  methinks  it  is  more  temper 
than  distemper.  That  they  should  take  it  upon  them 
to  decide  how  much  of  my  order  is  necessary  —  "  He 
let  a  pause  finish  for  him,  and  suddenly  he  turned  with 
a  flourish  of  gay  defiance :  "  I  will  tell  you  how  I  am 

138 


THE   FOREIGN   PAGE 

going  to  spend  my  morning,  Morcard.  I  am  going  to 
ride  over  every  acre  that  is  under  my  hand  and  see 
how  much  I  can  spare  for  loan-land.  And  when  I  have 
found  out,  I  will  rent  every  furlong  to  boors  who  shall 
be  bound  to  pay  me  service,  not  when  it  best  pleases 
them,  but  whensoever  I  stand  in  need  of  it." 

Rubbing  his  chin,  the  monk  heard  him  in  silence; 
but  the  old  warrior  grew  momentarily  grave.  "  Take 
care  that  you  seem  not  over  proud,  young  lord.  It  is 
in  such  a  mood  that  Edmund  creates  thanes." 

It  may  be  that  the  Etheling's  eyes  widened  for  an 
instant,  but  directly  after  he  laughed  with  gay  per- 
verseness.  "  Is  it?  "  he  said.  "  Then,  for  the  first  time 
in  six  weeks,  I  see  that  the  Ironside  is  cunning  in 
thought." 

Shaking  his  head,  Father  Ingulph  moved  down  the 
step.  "  Nay,  if  you  are  in  that  humor,  my  son,  I  waste 
no  breath.  Speed  you  well,  and  may  you  wax  in 
wisdom ! "  With  a  gesture,  half  paternal,  half  re- 
spectful, he  betook  himself  across  the  grass  to  the 
gate. 

Old  Morcard  turned  and  stepped  up  into  the  door- 
way, from  which  he  looked  down  indulgently  upon  his 
laughing  master.  "  It  happened  formerly,  Lord  Sebert, 
that  I  knew  how  to  command  your  earnestness,  and 
that  speedily;  but  that  time  has  long  gone  by.  Me- 
thinks  I  can  accomplish  more  among  the  watchmen 
upon  the  platform.  By  your  leave,  my  lord ! "  Bow- 
ing, he  disappeared  in  the  dark  tunnel  of  the  archway, 
and  the  Etheling  was  left  alone  save  for  the  graceful 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

figure  awaiting  him  beside  the  step.     The  instant  he 
moved,  it  sprang  forward. 

"  Lord,  is  it  your  wish  that  I  get  the  horses?  " 

As  the  old  man  had  looked  down  upon  the  young 
one,  so  now  the  young  man  stood  looking  down  upon 
the  boy,  regarding  him  with  tolerant  severity.  "  You 
most  mischief-full  elf !  "  he  said.  "  It  would  be  treating 
you  deservedly  were  I  to  leave  you  at  home." 

It  did  not  appear  that  the  lad  was  seriously  cast 
down;  a  betraying  dimple  came  out  and  played  in  his 
cheek,  though  his  mouth  struggled  for  gravity.  "  That 
is  unjustly  spoken,  lord,"  he  protested.  "  Did  I  not 
bear  my  punishment  with  befitting  penitence?" 

"  Penitence !  "  the  Etheling  gave  one  of  the  small 
ears  a  menacing  pull  as  he  descended  to  the  grass. 
"  What !  Do  you  think  I  did  not  see  your  antics 
with  the  dog?  You  made  a  jest  of  the  matter,  you 
pixie ! " 

The  page  sobered.  "  I  think  it  great  luck  that  I 
could,  Lord  Sebert !  Your  servants  were  eager  in  mak- 
ing a  jest  of  me  when  they  got  the  courage  from  your 
displeasure." 

But  Lord  Sebert  reached  out  the  wand  and  gave 
him  a  gentle  stroke  across  the  shoulders. 

"  Take  that  for  your  foolishness,"  he  said  lightly. 
"  What  matters  their  babble  when  you  know  how  safe 
you  sit  in  my  favor?  " 

Through  lowered  lashes  the  boy  stole  him  a  glance, 
half  mischievous,  half  coaxing.  "  How  safe,  lord? " 
he  murmured. 

140 


THE   FOREIGN   PAGE 

But  the  Etheling  only  laughed  at  him,  as  he 
drew  up  his  long  riding-boots  and  readjusted  his  belt. 
"  Safe  enough  so  that  I  forgive  you  some  dozen 
floggings  a  day,  you  imp;  and  choose  you  for  my 
comrade  when  I  should  be  profiting  by  the  compan- 
ionship of  your  betters.  Waste  no  more  golden  mo- 
ments on  whims,  youngling,  but  go  bid  them  fetch 
the  horses,  and  we  will  have  another  day  of  blithe 
wandering." 

Blithe  they  were,  in  truth,  as  they  cantered  through 
shaded  lanes  and  daisied  meadows,  nothing  too  small 
to  be  of  interest  or  too  slight  to  give  them  pleasure. 
An  orchard  of  pears,  whose  ripening  they  were  watch- 
ing with  eager  mouths,  a  group  of  colts  almost  ready 
for  the  saddle,  —  for  the  young  master  the  fascination 
of  ownership  gave  them  all  a  value;  while  another 
fascination  made  his  companion  hang  on  his  least  word, 
respond  to  his  lightest  mood. 

By  grassy  commons  and  rolling  meadows  sweet 
with  clustering  haycocks,  they  came  at  last  to  the 
crest  of  the  hill  that  guarded  the  eastern  end  of  the 
dale.  The  whole  round  sweep  of  the  horizon  lay  about 
them  in  an  unbroken  chain  of  ripening  vineyards  and 
rich  timber-land,  of  grain-fields  and  laden  orchards; 
not  one  spot  that  did  not  make  glorious  pledges  to  the 
harvest  time.  Drinking  its  fairness  with  his  eyes,  the 
lord  of  the  manor  sighed  in  full  content.  "  When  I  see 
how  fine  a  thing  it  is  to  cause  wealth  to  be  where  be- 
fore was  nothing,  I  cannot  understand  how  I  once 
thought  to  find  my  pleasure  only  in  destroying,"  he 

141 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

said.  "  Next  month,  when  the  barley  beer  is  brewed, 
we  will  have  a  harvest  feast  plentiful  enough  to  flesh 
even  your  bones,  you  bodkin ! " 

The  Danish  page  laughed  as  he  dodged  the  pla- 
guing wand.  "  It  is  true  that  you  owe  something  to 
my  race,  lord.  He  had  great  good  sense,  the  Wide- 
Fathomer,  to  stretch  his  strips  of  oxhide  around  this 
dale  and  turn  it  into  an  odal." 

"  Nay  now,  it  was  Alfred  who  had  sense  to  take 
it  away  from  him,"  the  Etheling  teased. 

But  the  boy  shook  back  his  long  tresses  in  airy 
defiance.  "  Then  will  Canute  be  foremost  in  wisdom, 
for  soon  he  will  get  it  back,  together  with  all  England. 
Remember  who  got  the  victory  last  week  at  Brent- 
ford, lord." 

In  the  midst  of  his  exulting,  a  cloud  came  over 
the  young  Englishman's  smile.  "  I  would  I  knew  the 
truth  concerning  that,"  he  said  slowly.  "  The  man  who 
passes  to-day  says  one  thing;  whoso  comes  to-morrow 
tells  another  story.  Yet  since  Canute  is  once  more 
free  to  beset  London  — "  He  did  not  finish,  and  for 
a  while  it  appeared  as  though  he  did  not  see  the  sunlit 
fields  his  eyes  were  resting  on. 

But  suddenly  the  boy  broke  in  upon  him  with  a 
burst  of  stifled  laughter.  "  Look,  lord !  In  yonder 
field,  behind  the  third  haycock ! " 

The  moment  that  he  had  complied,  laughter  ban- 
ished the  Etheling's  meditations.  Cozily  ensconced  in 
the  soft  side  of  a  haycock  was  Father  Ingulph,  a  couple 
of  jovial  harvesters  sprawled  beside  him,  a  fat  skin  of 

142 


THE   FOREIGN   PAGE 

ale  in  his  hands  on  its  way  to  his  mouth.  As  the  pair 
on  the  hilltop  looked  down,  one  of  the  trio  began  to 
bellow  out  a  song  that  bore  no  resemblance  whatever 
to  a  hymn.  Keeping  under  cover  of  the  bushes,  the 
eavesdroppers  laughed  with  malicious  enjoyment. 

"  But  I  will  make  him  squirm  for  that !  "  the  Ethel- 
ing  vowed.  "  I  will  tell  him  that  your  paganism  has 
made  spells  over  me  so  that  I  cannot  tell  a  holy  relique 
from  an  ale-skin;  and  a  bedridden  woman  looks  to  me 
like  two  strapping  yeomen.  I  will,  I  swear  it !  " 

"  And  I  shall  be  able  to  hold  it  against  him  as  a 
shield,  the  next  time  he  is  desirous  to  fret  me  about 
taking  a  new  belief,"  the  boy  rejoiced. 

But  presently  Sebert's  remarks  began  to  take  a 
new  tone.  "  They  have  the  appearance  of  relishing 
what  they  have  in  that  skin,"  he  observed  first.  And 
then,  "  I  should  not  mind  putting  my  own  teeth  into 
that  bread-and-cheese."  And  at  last,  "  By  Saint  Swithin, 
lad,  I  think  they  have  more  sense  than  we,  that  lin- 
ger a  half-hour's  ride  from  food  with  a  noonday  sun 
standing  in  the  sky!  It  is  borne  in  upon  me  that  I  am 
starving." 

Backing  his  horse  out  of  the  brush,  he  was  putting 
him  about  in  great  haste,  when  the  boy  leaped  in  his 
stirrups  and  clapped  his  hands. 

"  Lord,  we  need  not  be  a  half-hour  from  food ! 
Yonder,  across  the  stubble,  is  a  farmhouse.  If  you 
would  consent  that  I  might  use  your  name,  then  would 
I  ride  thither  and  get  their  best,  and  serve  it  to  you 
here  in  the  elves'  own  feast-hall." 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

The  answer  was  a  slap  on  the  green  shoulders  that 
nearly  tumbled  their  owner  from  the  saddle.  "  Now,  I 
was  right  to  call  you  elf,  for  you  have  more  than  human 
cleverness !  "  the  Etheling  cried  gayly.  "  Do  so,  by  all 
means,  dear  lad;  and  I  promise  in  return  that  I  will 
tell  every  puffed-up  dolt  at  home  that  you  are  the 
blithest  comrade  who  ever  fitted  himself  to  man's 
moods.  There,  if  that  contents  you,  give  wings  to 
your  heels ! " 


.44 


CHAPTER    XIII 


WHEN    MIGHT    MADE    RIGHT 

Now  may  we  understand 
That  men's  wisdom 
And  their  devices 
And  their  councils 
Are  like  naught 
'Gainst  God's  resolve. 

SAXON  CHRONICLE. 

HAT  difference  that,  some- 
where beyond  the  hills, 
men  were  fighting  and 
castles  were  burning?  At 
Ivarsdale,  in  the  shelter  and 
cheer  of  the  lord's  great 
hall,  the  feast  of  the  barley 
beer  was  at  its  height. 
While  one  set  of  serfs  bore 
away  the  remnants  of  roast 
and  loaf  and  sweetmeat,  another  carried  around  the 
brimming  horns ;  and  to  the  sound  of  cheers  and  hand- 
clapping,  the  gleeman  moved  forward  toward  the  harp 
that  awaited  him  by  the  fireside. 

Where  the  glow  lay  rosiest,  the  young  lord  sat  in 
the  great  raised  chair,  jesting  with  his  Danish  page 
who  knelt  on  the  step  at  his  side.    Now  the  boy's  an- 
10  145 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

swering  provoked  him  to  laughter,  and  he  put  out  a 
hand  and  tousled  the  thick  curls  in  his  favorite  caress. 
One  of  the  tresses  caught  in  his  jewelled  ring;  and  as 
he  bent  to  unfasten  it,  he  stared  at  the  wavy  mass  in 
lazy  surprise.  It  was  as  soft  and  rich  as  the  breast  of 
a  blackbird,  and  the  fire  had  laid  over  it  a  sheen  of 
rainbow  lights. 

"  Never  did  I  think  there  could  be  any  black  hair 
so  alluring,"  he  said  involuntarily. 

He  could  not  see  how  the  face  under  the  dark  veil 
grew  suddenly  as  bright  as  though  the  sun  had  risen 
in  it.  And  the  lad  said,  rather  breathlessly,  "  I  wonder 
at  your  words,  lord.  You  know  that  such  hair  is  the 
curse  of  black  elves." 

Leaning  back  in  his  chair,  the  Etheling  shook  his 
head  in  whimsical  obstinacy.  "  Not  so,  not  so,"  he 
persisted.  "  It  has  to  it  more  lustre  than  has  yellow. 
My  lady-love  shall  have  just  such  locks." 

He  had  a  glimpse  like  the  flash  of  a  bluebird's 
wing  in  the  sun,  as  the  page  glanced  up  at  him,  and  the 
sight  of  a  face  grown  suddenly  rose-red.  Then  the  boy 
turned  shyly,  and  slipping  back  to  his  cushion  on  the 
step,  nestled  himself  against  the  chair-arm  with  a  sigh 
that  was  almost  pathetic  in  its  happiness. 

Like  a  quieting  hand,  the  first  of  the  mellow 
chords  fell  upon  the  noise  of  the  revel.  The  servants 
bearing  away  the  dishes  began  to  tread  the  rushes 
on  tiptoe,  and  a  dozen  frowns  rebuked  any  clatter. 
Through  the  hush,  the  gleeman  began  to  sing  the 
"  Romance  of  King  Offa,"  the  king  who  married  a 

146 


WHEN    MIGHT    MADE    RIGHT 

wood  nymph  for  dear  love's  sake.  It  began  with  the 
wooing  and  the  winning,  out  in  the  leafy  greenwood 
amid  bird-voices  and  murmuring  brooks;  but  before 
long  the  enmity  of  the  queen-mother  entered,  with  jar- 
ring discords,  to  send  the  lovers  through  bitter  trials. 
Lord  and  page,  man  and  maid  and  serf,  strained  eye 
and  ear  toward  the  harper's  tattered  figure.  So  breath- 
less grew  the  listening  stillness  that  the  crackling  of 
the  fire  became  an  annoyance.  What  matter  that  out- 
side an  autumn  wind  was  howling  through  the  forest 
and  stripping  the  leaves  through  the  vines?  Within 
sound  of  the  mellow  harp-music  it  was  balmiest  spring- 
time, as  the  castlefolk  followed  the  gleeman  over  the 
hills  and  dales  of  a  flowering  dream-world. 

For  a  space  after  he  had  finished,  the  silence  re- 
mained unbroken,  then  gave  way  only  to  an  outburst 
of  applause.  And  one  did  even  better  than  applaud. 
Bending  forward,  his  beautiful  face  quite  radiant  with 
his  pleasure,  the  curly-headed  page  pulled  a  golden  ring 
from  his  pouch  and  tossed  it  into  the  harper's  lap. 

As  he  caught  the  largess,  the  man's  mouth  broad- 
ened. "  I  thank  you  for  your  good-will,  fair  stripling," 
he  returned.  "  May  you  find  as  true  a  love  when  your 
time  comes  to  go  a-wooing." 

The  maids  tittered,  while  the  men  guffawed,  and  a 
richer  glow  came  into  the  cheeks  of  Fridtjof  the  page. 
Suddenly  his  iris-blue  eyes  were  daringly  a-sparkle. 

"  The  spirits  will  have  forgot  your  wish  before 
that  time  comes,"  he  laughed,  "  for  I  vow  that  I  will 
raise  a  beard  or  ever  I  woo  a  maiden." 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Above  the  mirth  that  followed  rose  the  voice  of 
the  brawniest  of  the  henchmen,  passing  his  judgment 
on  the  ballad.  "  Now  that  is  my  own  desire  of  songs," 
he  declared.  "  That  was  worth  possessing,  —  the  love 
of  that  lass.  A  sweetheart  who  will  cleave  to  your  side 
when  your  fortune  is  most  severe,  and  despise  every 
good  because  she  has  not  you  also,  she  is  the  filly  to 
yoke  with.  Drink  to  the  wood  maiden,  comrades,  bare 
feet  and  wild  ways  and  all !  "  Swinging  up  his  horn, 
he  drained  off  the  toast  at  a  draught.  "  Give  us  a  mis- 
tress like  that,  my  lord,"  he  cried  merrily,  "  and  we 
will  hold  Ivarsdale  for  her  though  all  of  Edmund's 
men  batter  at  the  doors." 

Laughing,  they  all  looked  up  where  the  young 
master  leaned  in  his  chair,  watching  the  revels  with  a 
smile  of  idle  good-humor.  All  except  the  blue-eyed 
page;  he  bent  forward  instead,  so  that  his  long  locks 
fell  softly  about  his  face. 

The  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  shook  his  head  indolently 
against  the  cushion.  "  No  wood  lass  for  me,  friend 
Celric,"  he  said.  "  The  lady  of  my  love  shall  be  a 
high-born  maid  who  knows  no  more  of  the  world's 
roughness  than  I  of  woman's  ways.  Nor  shall  she 
follow  me  at  all,  but  stay  modestly  at  home  with  her 
maids  and  keep  herself  gentle  and  fair  against  my  re- 
turn. Deliver  me  from  your  sun-browned,  boy-bred 
wenches ! " 

"  I  am  consenting  to  that,  lord ! "  a  voice  cried 
from  the  benches ;  and  a  hubbub  of  conflicting  opinions 
arose.  Only  the  page  neither  spoke  or  moved. 

148 


WHEN    MIGHT    MADE    RIGHT 

The  henchman  would  not  be  downed;  again  his 
voice  rose  above  the  others.  "  In  soft  days,  my  lord, 
in  soft  days,  it  might  easily  be  so.  But  bear  in  mind 
such  times  as  these,  when  grief  happens  to  a  man 
oftener  than  joy.  Methinks  your  lily-fair  lady  would 
swoon  at  the  sight  of  your  blood ;  and  tears  would  be 
the  best  answer  you  would  get,  should  you  seek  to 
draw  comfort  out  of  her." 

White  as  a  star  at  dawn,  the  page's  face  was  raised 
while  his  wide  eyes  hung  on  his  master's;  and  from 
the  little  reed  wound  between  his  brown  fingers,  the 
juice  began  to  ooze  slowly  as  though  some  silent  force 
were  crushing  the  life  out  of  its  green  heart. 

But  the  young  noble  laughed  with  gay  scorn: 
"  Tears  would  be  in  all  respects  a  better  answer  than 
I  should  deserve,  should  I  whimper  faint-hearted  words 
into  a  maiden's  ear.  What  folly-fit  do  you  speak  in, 
fellow?  What!  Do  you  think  I  would  wed  another 
comrade  like  yourself,  or  a  playfellow  like  this  young- 
ster? "  Ever  so  gently  his  foot  touched  the  boyish 
form  on  the  step.  "  It  is  something  quite  different 
from  either  of  you  that  is  my  desire;  something  that 
is  as  much  higher  as  the  stars  are  above  these  candles." 

Disputing  and  agreeing,  the  clamor  rose  anew,  and 
the  Etheling  turned  to  his  favorite  with  a  jest.  But 
the  page  was  no  longer  in  his  place.  He  had  risen  to 
his  feet  and  was  standing  with  his  head  flung  back  like 
one  in  pain,  both  hands  up  tearing  the  tunic  away  from 
his  throat.  Sebert  bent  toward  him  with  a  question  on 
his  lips. 

149 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

He  forgot  the  query  before  he  could  speak  it,  how- 
ever, for  at  that  moment  there  was  a  sound  of  hur- 
ried steps  on  the  stone  stairs,  and  one  of  the  armed 
watchmen  from  the  top  of  the  Tower  burst  into  the 
room. 

"  Lord,"  he  gasped,  "  some  one  is  upon  us !  We 
thought  first  it  was  naught  but  the  noise  of  the  wind 
—  then  Elward  saw  a  light.  We  swear  they  came  not 
over  the  bridge,  yet  —  " 

His  words  were  cut  short  by  a  horn-blast  from 
the  darkness,  loud  and  clear  above  the  whistling  wind. 
Though  only  one  woman  screamed  out  Edmund's  name, 
it  is  probable  that  the  same  thought  was  in  every  mind. 
Jests  and  laughter  died  on  the  lips  that  bore  them,  and 
with  one  accord  the  men  turned  in  their  seats  to  watch 
their  master. 

His  face  had  sobered  as  he  listened;  before  the 
first  echo  had  died  away  he  had  spoken  swiftly  to 
the  fellow  at  his  side.  "  Celric,  get  you  down  to  the 
guard  at  the  gate  and  inquire  into  the  meaning  of 
that." 

When  the  henchman  had  left,  he  began  a  sharp 
questioning  of  the  sentinel,  and  the  noise  did  not 
begin  again.  Whispering,  the  women  drew  together 
like  herded  sheep;  and  the  men  left  their  barley  beer, 
to  stand  in  little  groups,  muttering  in  one  another's 
ears.  An  old  bowman  took  his  weapon  down  from  the 
wall  and  set  silently  to  work  to  restring  it. 

In  the  quiet,  the  tap  of  the  man's  feet  upon  the 
steps  was  audible  long  before  he  reached  the  waiting 

150 


WHEN    MIGHT    MADE    RIGHT 

roomful.  Every  eye  fastened  itself  upon  the  curtained 
doorway. 

Swinging  back,  the  arras  disclosed  a  face  full  of 
amazement.  "  Lord,"  the  man  said,  "  it  is  Danes ! 
None  know  how  many  or  how  they  came  there.  And 
their  chief  has  sent  you  a  messenger." 

"  Danes !  "  For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
Ivarsdale,  the  word  was  spoken  with  an  accent  of  relief. 

The  page  turned  from  the  fire  with  a  cry  of  bitter 
rejoicing :  "  If  it  is  Canute,  I  will  go  to  him !  " 

In  the  revulsion  of  his  feelings,  the  Etheling 
laughed  outright.  "  Since  it  is  not  Edmund,  I  care 
not  if  it  be  the  Evil  One  himself;  and  it  cannot  be 
he,  for  Canute  is  in  Mercia."  He  rose  and  faced  them 
cheerily.  "  Lay  aside  your  uneasiness,  friends ;  it  is 
likely  only  such  another  band  as  we  put  to  flight  last 
month,  that  hopes  to  surprise  us  into  some  weakness. 
Let  the  signal  fires  blaze  to  warn  the  churls,  while  we 
amuse  ourselves  with  the  messenger.  To-morrow  we 
will  chase  them  so  far  over  the  hills  that  they  will 
never  find  their  way  back  again." 

Beckoning  to  Morcard,  he  began  to  consult  him 
concerning  the  most  effective  arrangement  of  the  senti- 
nels; and  there  was  a  muffled  clatter  of  weapons  as 
men  went  to  and  fro  with  hasty  steps.  At  a  word  from 
the  steward,  the  women  went  softly  from  the  room  and 
up  the  winding  stairs  to  their  quarters,  the  rustling  of 
their  dresses  coming  back  with  ghostly  stealthiness. 

When  all  was  ready  the  messenger  was  brought 
in  between  guards.  Wrapped  in  dirty  sheepskins,  he 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

swaggered  to  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  the  light  that 
fell  on  his  tanned  face  showed  a  scar  running  the  full 
length  of  his  cheek.  With  his  first  glance,  the  Lord  of 
Ivarsdale  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  Now,  by  Saint  Mary,  I  have  seen  you  before, 
fellow!  Were  you  not  the  leader  of  the  band  we  drove 
away  last  month?  " 

The  Scar-Cheek  laughed  impudently.  "  I  will  not 
conceal  it ;  yet  I  did  not  know  that  my  beauty  was  so 
showy.  The  chief  was  wise  to  send  Brown-Cloak  to 
do  the  spying." 

"  Brown-Cloak!  The  beggar?  "  was  cried  all  down 
the  hall. 

But  the  messenger's  eyes  had  fallen  on  the  black- 
haired  boy,  who  stood  staring  at  him  from  the  fireside. 
His  wide  mouth  opened  in  astonishment.  "  The  King's 
ward?  Here  is  a  happening!"  he  ejaculated.  "If  I 
am  not  much  mistaken,  Canute  will  be  glad  to  find  this 
out.  It  was  his  belief  that  you  had  got  your  death- 
blow at  Scoerstan,  and  he  took  it  ill." 

The  King's  ward  made  no  other  answer  than  to 
regard  him  with  a  strange  mixture  of  attention  and 
aversion;  but  the  Etheling  reached  out  and  pushed 
the  boy  farther  behind  the  great  chair. 

"  Fridtjof  Frodesson  is  my  captive  and  no  longer 
concerns  you,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Give  him  no  further 
thought,  but  come  to  your  message." 

The  swaggering  assurance  of  the  man's  laugh  was 
more  offensive  than  rudeness  would  have  been.  "  If  I 
say  that  we  will  shortly  set  him  free,  I  shall  not  be 

'52 


WHEN    MIGHT   MADE   RIGHT 

going  very  wide  from  my  message.  My  errand  hither 
is  that  I  bring  word  from  Rothgar  Lodbroksson  to  sur- 
render the  Tower." 

The  page  uttered  a  little  cry,  and  his  lord  raised 
a  hand  mechanically  to  impose  silence ;  but  no  one  else 
seemed  able  to  speak  or  to  move.  From  the  master  in 
his  chair  to  the  serf  by  the  door,  they  stared  dumb- 
founded at  the  messenger. 

He,  on  his  part,  appeared  to  realize  all  at  once  that 
the  time  for  formality  had  come.  Pitching  his  cloak 
higher  on  his  shoulders,  he  fastened  his  eyes  on  a  hole 
in  the  tapestry  behind  the  Etheling's  chair  and  began 
monotonously  to  recite  his  lesson :  "  Rothgar,  the  son 
of  Lodbrok,  sends  you  greeting,  Sebert  Oswaldsson; 
and  it  is  his  will  that  you  surrender  to  him  the  odal 
and  Tower  of  Ivarsdale;  as  is  right,  because  the  odal 
was  created  and  the  Tower  was  built  by  Ivar  Vid- 
fadmi,  who  was  the  first  son  of  Lodbrok  and  the 
father's  father's  father  of  my  chief  — "  In  spite  of 
himself,  he  was  obliged  to  stop  to  take  in  breath. 

In  the  pause,  the  page  bent  toward  his  master,  his 
face  alight  with  a  sudden  fierce  triumph.  "  Lord,"  he 
whispered,  "  you  can  never  get  out !  You  are  caught 
as  though  they  had  you  in  a  trap ! " 

Astounded,  Sebert  drew  back  to  stare  at  him. 
"Fridtjof!  It  is  not  possible  that  you  are  unfaithful 
to  me!" 

The  boy's  only  answer  was  to  drop  down  upon  the 
step  and  bury  his  face  in  his  hands.  And  now  the  mes- 
senger had  recovered  his  wind  and  his  place. 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  Since  the  time  of  Alfred,"  he  went  on,  "  my  chief 
and  his  kin  have  been  kept  out  of  the  property  by  your 
stock  and  you;  yet  because  he  does  not  wish  to  look 
mean,  he  offers  you  to  go  out  in  safety  with  all  of  your 
housefolk,  both  men  and  women,  and  as  much  property 
as  you  can  walk  under,  —  if  you  go  quietly  and  in 
peace."  This  time  his  inflection  showed  that  he  had 
finished.  He  turned  his  eyes  from  the  hole  and  fastened 
them  on  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,  in  the  confidence  of 
invincible  power. 

The  room  was  so  still  that  when  a  gust  came  in 
around  the  ill-fitting  windows,  the  flare  of  the  torch- 
flames  sounded  loud  as  the  hiss  of  serpents. 

The  Etheling's  voice  was  very  deep  and  quiet. 
"  If  we  go  in  peace,"  he  repeated  slowly.  "  And  if  we 
do  not? " 

The  Dane  shrugged  his  burly  shoulders.  "  There 
are  no  terms  for  that.  You  will  find  it  necessary  to 
take  what  comes." 

Again  there  was  silence. 

Sebert  put  his  last  question :  "  How  long  does  the 
son  of  Lodbrok  give  me  to  consider  how  I  am  to  order 
things?" 

The  man  shattered  the  silence  with  his  boisterous 
laughter.  "  It  is  not  a  lie  about  you  English  that  you 
never  do  aught  that  you  do  not  sit  down  first  and  con- 
sider, till  the  crews  have  eaten  all  your  provisions  and 
the  timbers  of  your  boats  are  rotting.  When  a  Dane 
strikes,  it  is  like  the  striking  of  lightning.  So  soon  as 
you  hear  the  thunder  of  his  coming,  that  instant  you 


WHEN    MIGHT    MADE    RIGHT 

see  the  flashing  of  his  weapon.  My  chief  gives  you  no 
time  at  all.  So  long  a  time,  he  has  studied  out,  will  it 
take  me  to  come  in  to  you;  so  much  longer  to  do  my 
errand;  and  so  much  longer  to  get  back.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  he  will  blow  his  horn,  and  if  your  gates 
do  not  fly  open  in  obedience,  he  will  take  that  for  your 
answer." 

Either  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  had  been  doing  some 
rapid  thinking  during  the  long  speech,  or  else  he  was 
too  incensed  to  think.  Now  he  rose  with  sparks  flash- 
ing from  the  steel  of  his  eyes.  "  By  Peter,  he  is  right ! 
I  do  not  need  even  that  long,"  he  cried.  "  Since  the 
Wide-Fathomer  began  the  game,  the  Tower  has  been 
the  prize  of  the  strongest.  Shall  I  flinch  from  a  chal- 
lenge? Our  rights  are  equal;  our  luck  shall  decide. 
For  his  answer,  be  he  reminded  of  his  own  Danish  say- 
ing, that  'It  is  a  strong  bird  that  can  take  what  an 
eagle  has  in  his  claws,'  and  let  him  get  what  comfort 
he  can  from  that." 

After  his  ringing  tones,  the  unmoved  voice  of  the 
messenger  fell  flat  on  the  ear.  "  It  has  happened  as 
we  supposed,  that  you  would  answer  unfavorably,"  he 
said  as  he  turned.  "  It  was  seen  in  battle  that  you  are 
a  brave  man.  Otherwise  the  chief  would  not  have 
thought  it  necessary  to  hew  a  path  through  the  forest 
in  order  to  take  you  by  surprise."  Saluting  with  some 
appearance  of  respect,  he  joined  his  conductors  at  the 
door  and  passed  out  of  sight  down  the  stair. 

Like  smoke  in  the  wake  of  a  firebrand,  confusion 
rose  behind  him;  a  din  of  exclamations  loosed  on  the 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

air  and  the  clangor  of  weapons  caught  down  from 
the  wall.  Through  it,  the  Etheling's  voice  sounded 
strongly. 

"  To  the  palisade,  all  of  you !  They  may  not  wait 
till  morning.  To  the  forest  side ;  and  keep  them  from 
it  as  you  would  keep  off  death ! "  He  bent  and  shook 
the  crouching  page.  "  My  armor,  boy !  How !  Would 
you  have  me  read  treason  in  your  sluggishness?  My 
armor ! " 

The  page  started  up,  but  it  was  only  to  stare  past 
him  and  fling  out  his  hand  toward  a  window,  where  a 
bright  light  had  suddenly  shot  athwart  the  darkness: 
"  Lord,  they  have  set  fire  to  something !  " 

The  voice  of  old  Morcard  rose  shrill :  "  To  the 
storehouses !  Save  the  grain !  " 

There  was  a  wild  rush  for  the  door;  but  on  the 
threshold  they  were  met  by  the  shouts  of  watchmen 
hurrying  from  the  parapets. 

"  Lord,  the  court  is  swarming  with  them ! "  .  .  . 
"  They  have  cut  through  the  palisade  on  the  forest 
side !"..."  They  had  brush  laid  ready  — "... 
"Waited  only  for  him  — "  .  .  .  "Holy  saints,  what 
is  the  meaning  of  that? "  .  .  .  "  Something  else  has 
taken!" 

From  the  stairway  above  them  came  a  piercing 
cry :  "  The  storehouses !  They  have  fired  them  from 
inside!  The  lead  is  melting  like  ice!"  .  .  .  "The 
grain!"  .  .  .  "The  grain!" 

In  their  midst  the  young  lord  stood  in  helpless 
fury;  and  the  hand  he  had  grasped  around  his  sword- 

156 


WHEN  MIGHT  MADE  RIGHT 

hilt  gripped  it  so  hard  that  blood  started  under  each 
nail.  But  his  page  bent  and  kissed  the  clenched  fist 
with  a  cry  of  fierce  exulting. 

"  You  will  never  get  out  to  find  your  lily-fair  lady. 
You  will  never  have  a  lady  wife,  lord!  We  shall  die 
together." 


157 


CHAPTER  XIV 


HOW  THE  FATES  CHEATED  RANDALIN 

There  is  a  mingling  of  affection 
Where  one  can  tell 
Another  all  his  mind. 

HAVAMAL. 

FTER  that  night  the  deep- 
set  windows  of  Ivarsdale 
Tower  looked  out  upon 
[some  grim  sights.  The 
[first  morning  it  was  a  skir- 
[mish  in  the  meadow  be- 
yond the  foot-bridge,  v/hen 
Ithe  three-score  farmer-sol- 
diers came  loyally  to  their 
'leader's  aid.  Though  Ken- 
dred  of  Hazelford  marched  bravely  at  their  head,  they 
were  practically  uncaptained ;  with  any  kind  of  weapon 
in  their  hands  and  no  kind  of  armor  over  their  home- 
spun. What  chance  had  they  against  sixty  picked  war- 
riors, led  by  the  fiercest  chief  of  a  race  of  chieftains? 
They  met,  and  there  was  a  moment  of  clash  and  of 
clangor,  a  moment  of  awful  commotion ;  and  when  the 
whirling  dust-clouds  settled,  the  only  homespun  that 
was  moving  was  that  which  was  flying,  sped  by  Danish 

158 


HOW  THE  FATES  CHEATED  RANDALIN 

arrows.  All  the  rest  of  the  day  the  Tower  windows 
looked  out  upon  a  litter  of  brown  heaps,  here  and  there 
a  white  face  upturned  or  a  scarf-end  fluttering  in  the 
autumn  wind. 

Wild  with  helpless  misery,  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale 
would  have  charged  the  Berserkers  with  his  handful 
of  armed  servants  if  the  old  cniht  had  not  restrained 
him  almost  by  force;  when  he  spent  his  breath  in  rail- 
ing at  everything  between  earth  and  sky. 

"  It  is  the  folly  of  it  that  maddens  me,"  he  cried 
over  and  over,  "  the  needless  folly !  Had  I  but  used 
my  mind  to  think  with,  instead  of  to  plan  feasts  —  I 
am  moved  to  dash  my  brains  out  when  I  remember 
it!" 

"  Nay,  it  is  my  judgment  that  was  lacking,"  Mor- 
card  said  bitterly.  "  I  was  an  old  dog  that  could  not 
learn  a  new  trick.  I  should  have  seen  that  the  old 
ways  no  longer  avail.  The  fault  was  mine."  His 
wrinkled  old  face  was  so  haggard  with  self-reproach 
that  the  Etheling  hastily  recanted. 

"  Now  I  bethink  me,  I  am  wrong,  and  it  is  no  one's 
fault.  It  comes  of  the  curse  that  lies  over  the  Island. 
Was  there  not  something  rotten  in  all  English  pali- 
sades, it  would  never  have  happened  that  the  pirates 
got  their  first  foothold.  But  we  have  shaken  off  the 
spell,  and  they  have  not  mastered  us  yet.  To-night  we 
will  try  to  get  a  messenger  out  to  my  kinsman  in  York- 
shire, and  another  to  my  father's  friend  in  Essex." 

The  next  day,  and  for  many  days  thereafter,  the 
Tower  windows  stared  out  like  expectant  eyes.  But 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

no  delivering  bands  ever  came  over  the  hills  to  reward 
their  watching.  From  the  moment  that  he  was  swal- 
lowed by  the  outer  darkness,  the  messenger  for  York- 
shire was  as  lost  to  their  sight  and  their  knowledge  as 
though  he  had  plunged  into  the  ocean.  And  a  week 
later,  the  man  who  had  been  sent  into  Essex  crept  back 
with  a  dejection  that  foretold  his  ill  success.  The 
ealdorman  was  taxed,  might  and  main,  to  protect  his 
own  lands.  He  regretted  it,  to  his  innermost  vitals, 
but  these  were  days  when  each  must  stand  or  fall  for 
himself.  He  could  only  send  his  sympathy  and  the 
counsel  to  hold  out  unflinchingly  in  the  hope  that  some 
fortune  of  war  would  call  the  besiegers  away. 

When  he  heard  that,  Father  Ingulph  forgot  his 
robes  to  indulge  in  a  curse.  "  Does  he  think  we  have 
possession  of  the  widow's  blessed  oil-cruse?  If  the 
larder  had  not  been  stocked  for  a  week's  feasting,  we 
must  needs  have  been  starved  under  ere  this.  How 
much  longer  can  we  endure,  even  at  one  meal  a  day?  " 
He  sighed  as  he  drew  his  belt  in  another  notch. 

When  the  beginning  of  the  Wine  Month  came, 
the  bitterest  sight  that  the  Tower  windows  gave  out 
upon  was  the  band  of  foragers  that  every  morning  went 
forth  from  the  Danish  camp-fires.  Every  noon  they 
returned,  amid  a  taunting  racket,  with  armfuls  of  ale- 
skins,  back-loads  of  salted  meats,  and  bags  bulging 
with  the  bread  which  they  had  forced  the  terrorized 
farm-women  into  baking  for  them.  "  They  have  the 
ingenuity  of  fiends ! "  Father  Ingulph  was  wont  to 
groan  after  each  of  these  spectacles. 

1 60 


HOW  THE  FATES  CHEATED  RANDALIN 

At  last  the  time  arrived  when  it  looked  as  though 
these  visions  were  to  be  the  only  glimpses  of  food 
vouchsafed  to  them. 

"  Bread  for  one  more  meal ;  and  the  last  ale-cask 
has  been  broached,"  the  steward  answered  in  a  very 
faint  voice  when  Morcard  put  the  nightly  question. 

Because  it  was  not  possible  for  the  old  man's  face 
to  record  more  misery,  the  light  of  the  guard-room  fire 
over  which  he  crouched  showed  no  change  whatever 
in  his  expression. 

It  was  the  young  lord,  who  sat  beside  him,  that 
answered.  After  a  pause  he  said  gently,  "  Go  and 
try  to  get  some  sleep.  At  least  you  can  dream  of 
food." 

"  I  have  done  no  otherwise  for  a  sennight,"  the 
man  sighed  as  he  hurried  away  to  snatch  the  tongs 
from  a  serf  who  was  spending  an  unnecessary  fagot 
upon  the  fire.  At  any  other  time  he  would  have 
shouted  at  him,  but  it  was  little  loud  talking  that  was 
done  within  the  walls  these  days. 

When  they  were  left  alone,  the  old  cniht  threw 
himself  back  upon  the  bench  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  mantle.  "  I  have  outlived  my  usefulness,"  he 
moaned.  "  I  have  lived  to  bring  ruin  on  the  house  that 
has  sheltered  me.  What  guilt  I  lie  under ! "  For  a 
time  he  lay  as  stark  and  rigid  under  his  cloak  as  though 
death  had  already  closed  about  him.  The  guard-room 
seemed  to  become  a  funeral  chamber,  with  a  mass  of 
hovering  shadows  for  a  pall.  The  fire  held  up  funeral 
tapers  of  flickering  flame,  and  the  whispers  of  the  starv- 

ii  161 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

ing  men  who  warmed  themselves  in  its  heat  broke  the 
silence  as  dismally  as  the  voices  of  mourners. 

But  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  said  steadily,  "  Not  so, 
good  friend;  and  it  hurts  my  pride  sorely  that  you 
should  speak  as  if  I  were  still  of  no  importance  in  my 
father's  house.  That  which  I  call  myself  lord  of,  it  be- 
hooved me  to  rule  over.  If  ever  I  get  out  of  this  — " 
checking  himself,  he  rose  to  his  feet.  "  The  smoke 
makes  my  wits  heavy.  Methinks  I  will  go  up  into  the 
air  a  while." 

He  took  a  step  toward  the  door,  but  halted  when 
the  red-cloaked  page,  who  had  been  stretched  near  him 
on  the  bench,  started  up  as  though  preparing  to  ac- 
company him. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  lad.  These  fasts  from  sleep 
will  parch  your  young  brains.  I  go  up  to  the  platform 
because  I  would  rather  walk  than  rest;  but  do  you 
remain  here  by  the  fire  and  try  to  catch  a  drowsiness 
from  its  heat." 

But  the  page  advanced  with  the  old  wilful  shake 
of  his  curly  head.  "  I  also  would  rather  walk,  if  you 
please." 

As  he  looked  at  him,  compassion  came  into  the 
Etheling's  face.  The  hollowness  of  their  sockets  made 
the  boy's  large  eyes  look  larger,  and  his  fever-flush 
trebled  their  brightness.  Sebert  said,  with  a  poor 
attempt  at  a  smile,  "  Little  did  I  think  that  my  hospi- 
tality would  ever  produce  such  a  guest.  Poor  young- 
ling! You  would  better  have  crept  out  to  your  coun- 
trymen, as  I  bade  you." 

162 


HOW  THE  FATES  CHEATED  RANDALIN 

Again  the  dark  head  shook  obstinately.  "  Rather 
would  I  starve  with  you  than  feast  with  them.  I  go 
not  out  till  you  go." 

Something  seemed  to  come  into  the  young  man's 
throat  as  he  was  about  to  speak,  for  he  swallowed 
hard  and  was  silent.  Putting  an  arm  about  the  slender 
figure,  he  drew  it  to  his  side ;  and  so  they  left  the  room 
and  began  to  climb  the  stairs. 

As  soon  as  the  curtain  fell  at  their  heels  a  stifling 
mustiness  came  to  their  nostrils,  and  a  chill  that  was 
like  the  flat  of  a  knife-blade  pressed  against  their 
cheeks.  They  drew  breath  thankfully  when  they  had 
come  up  into  the  sweet  freshness  of  the  night  air. 
Flashing  on  the  weapons  of  the  pacing  sentinels,  a 
glory  of  silver  moonlight  lay  like  a  visible  silence  over 
the  parapets.  In  the  darkness  below,  a  sea  of  forest 
trees  was  murmuring  and  splashing  at  the  passing  of 
a  wind.  Yet  deeper  down  in  the  dark  glowed  the  fires 
of  the  Danish  camp,  —  red  eyes  of  the  dragon  that 
would  rise  ere  long  and  crush  them  under  his  iron  claws. 

After  they  had  twice  made  the  round  without 
speaking,  the  page  said  gravely,  "  I  heard  what  Brith- 
wald  told  you  about  the  bread,  lord.  What  will  over- 
take us  when  that  is  gone?  Shall  we  charge  them,  so 
that  we  may  die  fighting?"  When  the  Etheling  did 
not  answer  immediately,  his  companion  looked  up  at 
him  with  loving  reproach.  "  You  forget  that  you  need 
conceal  nothing  from  me,  dear  lord.  I  am  not  as  those 
clowns  below.  You  have  even  said  that  you  found 
pleasure  in  telling  me  your  mind." 

163 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Sebert's  hand  was  lifted  from  the  red  cloak  to 
touch  the  thin  cheek  caressingly.  "  I  should  be  ex- 
treme ungrateful  were  I  to  say  less,  dear  lad.  There 
is  a  man's  courage  in  your  boy's  body,  and  I  think  a 
woman  could  not  be  more  faithful  in  her  love  —  How ! 
Are  you  cold  that  you  shiver  so?  Pull  the  corner  of 
my  cloak  about  you." 

But  the  page  cast  it  off  impatiently.  "  No,  no,  it 
is  nothing;  no  more  than  that  one  of  those  men  out 
there  may  have  walked  across  the  spot  that  is  to  be  my 
grave.  Sooner  would  I  bite  my  tongue  off  than  inter- 
rupt you.  I  ask  you  not  to  let  it  hinder  your  speech." 

Again  a  kind  of  affectionate  pity  came  into  the 
young  noble's  face.  "  Does  it  mean  so  much  to  you  to 
hear  that  you  have  been  faithful  in  your  service?  " 

"  It  means  —  so  much  to  me !  "  the  boy  repeated 
softly ;  and  if  the  man's  ear  had  not  been  far  afield,  he 
might  have  divined  the  secret  of  the  green  tunic  only 
from  the  tenderness  of  the  low  voice.  But  when  his 
mind  came  back  to  his  companion  again,  the  lad  was 
looking  at  him  with  a  little  smile  touching  the  curves 
of  his  wistful  mouth. 

"  Do  you  know  why  this  mishap  which  has  oc- 
curred to  you  seems  great  luck  for  me?  Because  other- 
wise it  is  not  likely  that  you  would  have  found  out  how 
true  a  friend  I  could  be.  If  it  had  happened  that  I  had 
gone  with  Rothgar's  messenger  that  night,  you  would 
have  remembered  me  only  as  one  who  could  entertain 
you  when  it  was  your  wish  to  laugh.  But  now,  since 
it  has  been  allowed  me  to  endure  suffering  with  you 

164 


HOW  THE  FATES   CHEATED   RANDALIN 

and  to  share  your  mind  when  it  was  bitterest,  you  have 
given  me  a  place  in  your  heart.  And  to-morrow,  when 
we  go  forth  together,  and  the  Dane  slays  me  with  you 
because  it  will  be  open  to  him  then  that  for  your  sake 
I  have  become  unfaithful  to  him,  you  will  remember 
our  fellowship  even  to  —  " 

But  Sebert's  hand  silenced  the  tremulous  lips. 
"  No  more,  youngling !  I  adjure  you  by  your  gentle- 
ness," he  whispered  unsteadily.  "  You  owe  me  no 
such  love;  and  it  makes  my  helplessness  a  thousand- 
fold more  bitter.  Say  no  more,  little  comrade,  if  you 
would  not  turn  my  heart  into  a  woman's  when  it  has 
need  to  be  of  flint.  Sit  you  here  on  the  ledge  the  while 
that  I  take  one  more  turn.  You  will  not?  Then  come 
with  me,  and  we  will  make  the  round  together,  and 
apply  our  wits  once  more  to  the  riddle.  Until  swords 
have  put  an  end  to  me,  I  shall  not  cease  to  believe  that 
it  has  an  answer." 

Below,  in  the  dense  blackness  of  the  forest,  an 
occasional  owl  sounded  his  echoless  cry.  From  still 
deeper  in  the  dark,  where  the  Danish  camp-fires 
glowed,  a  harp-note  floated  up  on  the  wind  with  a 
fragment  of  wild  song.  But  it  was  many  a  long  mo- 
ment before  the  silence  that  hovered  over  the  doomed 
Tower  was  broken  by  any  sound  but  the  measured 
tramp  of  the  sentinels. 

It  was  Sebert  who  brought  the  dragging  pace 
finally  to  a  halt,  throwing  himself  upon  a  stone  bench 
to  hold  his  head  in  his  hands.  "  We  cannot  drive 
them  off;  that  needs  no  further  proof.  And  I  do  not 

165 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

see  how  we  can  hold  out  till  the  time  that  chance  en- 
tices them  away,  when  but  one  meal  stands  between 
us  and  starvation,  and  already  we  are  as  weak  as  rab- 
bits. Naught  can  profit  us  save  craft." 

The  dark  head  beside  him  shook  hopelessly;  but 
he  repeated  the  verdict  with  additional  emphasis.  "  I 
tell  you,  craft  is  our  only  hope;  some  artfulness  that 
shall  undermine  their  strength  even  as  their  tricks 
crept,  snake-like,  under  our  guard."  Turning  in  his 
seat,  he  set  his  face  toward  the  darkness,  clutching 
his  head  in  renewed  effort. 

No  word  came  from  the  page,  but  a  strange  look 
was  dawning  in  his  upturned  face.  Whether  it  was  a 
great  terror  that  had  shaken  his  soul  or  whether  a  joy 
had  come  to  him  that  raised  him  to  heaven  itself,  it 
was  impossible  to  tell,  for  the  signs  of  both  were  in  his 
eyes.  And  when  at  last  he  spoke,  both  thrilled  through 
his  voice.  "  Lord,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  think  I  see  where 
a  trick  is  possible." 

As  Sebert  turned  from  the  darkness,  the  boy 
struggled  up  and  stood  before  him.  "  If  they  could 
be  made  to  believe  a  lie  about  the  food?  If  they  could 
be  made  to  believe  that  you  have  enough  to  continue 
this  for  a  long  time?  Their  natures  are  such  that  al- 
ready it  must  have  become  a  hardship  for  them  to 
remain  quiet." 

The  Etheling's  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  other's 
lips;  his  every  muscle  strained  toward  him.  Under 
the  stimulus  the  page's  words  seemed  to  come  a  little 
less  uncertainly,  a  little  more  quickly. 

166 


HOW  THE  FATES   CHEATED  RANDALIN 

"  I  think  I  could  manage  it  for  you,  lord.  They 
think  me  your  unwilling  captive:  you  remember  what 
the  messenger  said  about  freeing  me?  If  I  should  go 
to  Rothgar  — "  his  voice  broke  and  his  eyes  sought 
his  friend's  eyes  as  though  they  were  wine-cups  from 
which  he  would  drink  courage  —  "if  I  should  go  to 
Rothgar,  lord,  I  could  declare  myself  escaped,  and  he 
would  be  likely  to  believe  any  story  I  told  him." 

Sebert  leaped  up  and  caught  the  lad  by  the  shoul- 
ders, then  hesitated,  weighing  it  in  his  mind,  half  fear- 
ing to  believe.  "  But  are  you  sure  that  your  tongue 
will  not  trip  you?  Or  your  face,  poor  mouse?  What! 
Can  you  make  them  believe  in  abundance  when 
your  cheeks  are  like  bowls  for  the  catching  of  your 
tears?  " 

The  boy  seemed  to  gather  strength  from  the  caress- 
ing hands,  as  Thor  from  the  touch  of  his  magic  belt. 
He  even  gave  a  little  breathless  laugh  of  elation.  "  As 
to  that,  I  think  he  is  not  wise  enough  to  guess  the 
truth.  I  will  tell  him  that  you  have  thought  it  re- 
vengeful toward  him  to  starve  your  Danish  captive; 
and  because  it  is  in  every  respect  according  to  what 
he  would  do  in  your  place,  I  think  he  will  have  no 
misgivings." 

Pulling  the  soft  curls  with  a  suggestion  of  his  old 
lightheartedness,  the  Etheling  laughed  with  him.  "  You 
bantling!  Who  would  have  dreamed  you  to  that  de- 
gree artful?  Are  you  certain  your  craft  will  bear  you 
out?  I  would  not  have  you  suffer  their  anger.  Are 
you  capable  of  so  much  feigning?" 

167 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

For  an  instant  the  boy's  eyes  were  even  audacious ; 
and  all  the  hollowness  of  the  cheeks  could  not  hide  a 
flashing  dimple.  "  Oh,  my  dear  lord,  I  am  capable  of 
so  much  more  feigning  than  you  guess !  "  he  answered 
daringly. 

"  Nay,  have  I  not  been  wont  to  call  you  elf? " 
Sebert  returned.  Then  his  voice  deepened  with  feel- 
ing. "  By  the  soul  of  my  father,  Fridtjof,  if  you  bring 
me  out  of  this  snare,  me  and  mine,  I  declare  with  truth 
that  there  will  be  no  recompense  you  can  ask  at  my 
hands  which  I  shall  not  be  glad  to  grant  — "  He 
paused  in  the  wonder  of  seeing  the  sparkle  in  the  blue 
eyes  flee  away  like  a  flitting  light. 

The  page  turned  from  him  almost  with  a  sob. 
"  Pray  you,  promise  me  nothing !  "  he  said  hastily. 
"  If  ever  I  see  you  again,  and  you  have  more  to  give 
me  than  pity —  Nay,  I  shall  lose  my  courage  if  I 
think  of  that  part.  Get  me  out  quickly  while  the  heart 
is  firm  within  me.  And  give  me  a  draught  from  your 
cup  to  warm  my  blood." 

"  Certainly  it  would  be  best  for  you  to  come  to 
them  while  they  are  in  such  a  state  of  feasting  that 
their  good-humor  is  keenest  and  their  wits  dullest," 
Sebert  assented. 

He  spoke  but  with  the  matter-of-factness  of  a  sol- 
dier reconnoitring  a  position,  but  on  the  girl  in  the 
page's  dress  the  words  fell  like  blows.  Then  it  was 
that  she  realized  for  the  first  time  how  ill  a  crumb  can 
satisfy  the  hunger  which  asks  for  a  loaf;  that  she 
knew  that  her  body  was  not  the  only  part  of  her  which 

1 68 


HOW  THE  FATES  CHEATED  RANDALIN 

was  starving.  Somewhere  on  that  dark  stairway  she 
lost  the  boyishness  out  of  her  nature  forever.  The 
thin  cheeks  were  white  under  their  tan  when  they  came 
again  into  the  light  of  the  guard-room  fire;  and  the 
blue  eyes  had  in  them  a  woman's  reproach. 

"  It  would  show  no  more  than  friendship  if 
you  said  that  you  were  sorry  to  have  me  go,"  she 
told  him  with  quivering  lips.  "  Are  you  so  eager  in 
getting  me  off  that  you  cannot  say  you  will  miss 
me?" 

But  the  young  lord  only  laughed  good-humoredly 
as  he  poured  the  wine.  "  What  a  child  you  are !  Do 
you  not  know  those  things  without  my  telling  you? 
And  as  for  missing  you,  I  am  not  likely  to  have  time. 
The  first  chance  you  get,  you  will  slip  back  to  me  — 
if  you  do  not,  I  will  come  after  you  and  flog  you  into 
the  bargain ;  be  there  no  forgetting ! " 

She  could  not  laugh  as  she  would  once  have  done; 
instead  she  choked  in  the  cup  and  pushed  it  from  her. 
A  passionate  yearning  came  over  her  for  one  such  word, 
one  such  look,  as  he  would  give  the  dream-lady  when 
she  should  come.  With  her  secret  on  her  lips,  she  lifted 
her  eyes  to  his. 

A  little  amused  but  more  pitying,  and  withal  very, 
very  kind,  his  glance  met  hers;  and  her  courage  for- 
sook her.  Suppose  the  word  she  was  about  to  speak 
should  not  make  his  face  friendlier?  Suppose  his  sur- 
prise should  be  succeeded  by  haughtiness,  or,  worse 
than  all,  by  a  touch  of  that  gay  scorn?  Even  at  the 
memory  of  it  she  shrank.  Better  a  crumb  than  no 

169 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

bread  at  all.  Turning  away,  she  followed  him  in  si- 
lence down  the  dark  passage. 

When  the  moment  of  parting  arrived,  and  Sebert's 
hand  lay  on  the  last  bolt,  that  mood  was  so  strong 
upon  her  that  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  she  were 
passing  out  of  life  into  death.  Clinging  to  his  cloak, 
with  her  face  buried  in  its  folds,  she  wet  it  with  far 
bitterer  tears  than  any  she  had  shed  over  her  mur- 
dered kinsmen. 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  thought  of  it !  I  wish  I  had 
not  told  you ! "  she  sobbed  into  the  soft  muffling. 
"  Only  to  be  near  you  I  thought  heaven ;  and  now 
the  Fates  have  cheated  me  even  out  of  that." 

The  Etheling  put  his  hand  under  the  bent  head  to 
raise  it  that  he  might  hear  what  the  lips  were  saying, 
and  she  covered  his  palm  with  kisses.  Then  slipping 
away,  like  the  elf  he  had  called  her,  she  glided  through 
the  narrow  space  of  the  half-open  door  and  was  gone, 
sobbing,  out  into  the  night. 


170 


CHAPTER   XV 


HOW    FRIDTJOF   CHEATED   THE  JOTUN 

Such  is  the  love  of  women, 

Who  falsehood  meditate, 

As  if  one  drove  not  rough-shod 

On  slippery  ice 

A  spirited  two-year-old 

And  unbroken  horse. 

HAVAMAL. 

TRUST  my  sword;  I  trust  my 

steed ; 
But  most  I  trust  myself  at  need,'  " 

the  fair-haired  scald  sang 
exultingly  to  the  Danish- 
men  sprawled  around  the 
camp-fire.  It  was  to  no 
graceful  love-song  that  his 
harp  lent  its  swelling 

chords,     but     to     a     stern 

chant  of  mighty  deeds,  whose  ringing  notes  sped 
through  the  forest  like  the  bearers  of  war-arrows, 
knocking  at  the  door  of  each  sleeping  echo  until  it 
awoke  and  carried  on  the  summons. 

Echoes  awoke  as  well  in  the  breasts  of  those  who 
listened.  When  the  minstrel  laid  aside  his  harp  for 
his  cup,  Snorri  Scar-Cheek  brought  his  fist  down  in  a 

171 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

mighty  blow  upon  the  earth.     "  To  hear  such  words 
and  know  one's  self  doomed  to  wallow  in  mast !  " 

A  dozen  shaggy  heads  wagged  surly  acquiescence. 
But  from  the  figure  outstretched  upon  the  splendid 
bearskin  a  harsh  voice  sounded.  "  Now  I  see  that  be- 
cause you  lie  in  mast  you  have  a  swine's  wit,"  it  said. 
"  Do  you  want  the  thrall  to  stand  forth  and  prove  for 
the  hundredth  time  that  their  bins  must  needs  be  as 
empty  as  your  head?  " 

Venturing  no  more  than  a  growl,  the  man  dropped 
his  chin  back  upon  his  fists.  But  Brown-Cloak,  the 
English  serf,  found  somewhere  the  notion  that  here 
was  an  opportunity  to  rehearse  once  more  the  service 
which  was  his  sole  claim  upon  his  new  masters'  indul- 
gence, and  he  got  on  his  legs  accordingly. 

"  I  can  say  soothly  that  you  will  not  have  to  bear 
it  much  longer,  Lord  Dale,"  he  reassured.  "  My  own 
eyes  saw  that  — "  He  ended  in  a  howl  as  a  half- 
gnawed  sheep-bone  from  the  warrior's  hand  struck 
him  with  a  force  that  knocked  him  sprawling  among 
the  ashes. 

"  Do  not  trouble^  yourself  to  answer  until  you  are 
questioned,"  the  Scar-Cheek  recommended  briefly.  And 
a  round  of  laughter  followed  the  poor  scapegoat  as  he 
picked  himself  up,  groaning,  and  crept  away  into  the 
shadow.  In  the  restlessness  of  their  inactivity,  and  this 
swift  breaking  into  passages  of  growling  and  tooth- 
play  whenever,  in  their  narrow  confines,  they  chanced 
to  jostle  each  other,  they  were  like  nothing  so  much  as 
a  pack  of  caged  wolves. 

172 


HOW  FRIDTJOF  CHEATED  THE  JOTUN 

Into  the  den,  a  few  minutes  later,  the  daughter  of 
Frode  came  on  her  difficult  mission.  Her  face  was  so 
ghastly  that  the  man  who  first  caught  sight  of  it 
did  not  recognize  her,  and  snatched  up  his  weapon  as 
against  an  enemy. 

It  was  the  Scar-Cheek  who  offered  the  first  wel- 
come in  a  jovial  shout.  "  The  hawk  escaped  from  the 
cage!  Well  done,  champion!  Did  you  batter  a  way 
out  with  your  mighty  fists?  Did  you  get  fretful  and 
slay  the  Englishman?  Leave  off  your  bashfulness  and 
tell  us  your  deeds  of  valor !  "  A  score  of  hands  were 
stretched  forth  to  draw  the  boy  into  the  circle ;  a  score 
of  horns  were  held  out  for  his  refreshment. 

To  all  of  them  Randalin  yielded  silently,  —  silently 
accepting  the  cup  which  was  nearest,  in  order  to  gain 
time  by  sipping  its  contents.  She  realized  that  only  a 
manner  of  perfect  unconcern  could  carry  her  through, 
yet  she  felt  herself  shaking  with  excitement. 

Rothgar  sat  up  on  the  great  skin  with  a  gesture 
of  some  cordiality.  "  Hail  to  you,  Fridt jof  Frodesson ! " 
he  said.  "  Your  escape  is  a  thing  that  gladdens  me. 
I  did  not  like  the  thought  of  starving  you,  and  I 
hope  your  father  will  overlook  the  unfriendliness 
of  it." 

The  Scar-Cheek,  who  had  been  scanning  her  criti- 
cally where  she  stood  before  them,  drinking,  gave  a 
pitying  grunt.  "  By  the  crooked  horn,  boy,  you  must 
have  had  naught  but  ill  luck  since  the  time  of  Scoer- 
stan !  No  more  meat  is  on  you  than  a  raven  could  eat ; 
and  the  night  I  was  in  the  Englishman's  hall,  you  had 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

the  appearance  of  having  been  under  a  lash.     Your 
guardian  spirit  must  have  gone  astray." 

Though  she  managed  to  keep  her  eyes  upon  her 
cup,  Randalin  could  not  hinder  a  wave  of  burning  color 
from  over-running  her  face.  Seeing  it,  Rothgar  held 
up  his  handless  left  arm  for  silence. 

"  You  act  in  a  mannerless  way,  Snorri  Gudbrands- 
son,  when  you  remind  a  high-spirited  youth  that  he 
has  been  disgraced  in  his  mind.  Yet  do  not  let 
that  prevent  your  joy,  my  Bold  One.  To  make  up 
for  the  injury  I  have  been  to  you,  I  will  give  you  a 
revenge  on  the  Englishman  that  shall  wipe  out  every- 
thing you  have  endured  from  him.  If  it  is  possible 
for  me  to  take  him  alive  and  bind  him,  your  own 
hand  shall  be  the  one  to  strike  Sebert  Oswaldsson  his 
death-blow." 

The  girl's  nervousness  betrayed  her  into  a  burst  of 
hysterical  laughter,  but  her  wits  were  quick  enough 
to  turn  it  to  good  account.  She  said  with  Fridtjofs 
own  petulance,  "  Your  boon  is  like  the  one  Canute  has 
in  store  for  me.  I  am  likely  to  wait  so  long  for  both 
that  I  shall  have  no  teeth  left  to  chew  them  with.  I 
like  it  much  better  to  take  your  kindness  in  the  shape 
of  food,  if  that  is  a  loaf  yonder." 

The  abruptness  with  which  silence  fell  over  the 
group  was  startling.  Snorri  bent  forward  and  plucked 
her  sternly  back  as  she  made  a  move  toward  the  bread. 
A  dozen  voices  questioned  her. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  .  .  .  "Why  will 
it  take  long?  "  .  .  .  "  Are  they  not  short  in  food?  " 

'74 


HOW  FRIDTJOF  CHEATED  THE  JOTUN 

Knowing  that  she  could  not  achieve  unconcern, 
she  kept  to  her  petulance,  jerking  her  cloak  away  from 
the  hand  that  detained  it.  "  Should  I  be  apt  to  blame 
him  for  starving  me  if  he  did  it  because  no  better  cheer 
was  to  be  had?  Nor  do  I  think  you  have  proved  much 
more  liberal.  Let  me  by  to  the  bread." 

Instead,  the  ring  narrowed  around  her;  and  the 
chief  himself  put  peremptory  questions  in  his  heavy 
voice.  "Has  he  food?  What  do  you  mean?  Clear 
your  wits  and  answer  distinctly.  Can  you  not  under- 
stand that  we  think  this  food-question  of  great  im- 
portance? The  thrall  told  us  they  are  wont  to  keep 
their  provisions  in.  the  house  we  burned.  Did  he  lie?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  he  lied  or  not,"  Randalin 
answered  slowly ;  "  but  it  seems  to  me  great  foolish- 
ness that  you  did  not  take  the  time  into  consideration. 
At  the  end  of  the  harvest,  any  English  house  would  be 
fitted  out  for  weeks  of  feasting.  You  came  the  night 
the  larder  was  fullest;  and  they  have  only  spent  one 
meal  a  day  since." 

Rothgar  got  upon  his  feet  and  towered  over  her, 
his  Jotun-frame  appearing  to  swell  with  irritation.  "  Do 
you  not  know  how  provoking  your  words  are,  that  you 
are  so  glib  of  tongue?"  he  thundered.  "Tell  shortly 
what  you  think  of  their  case;  can  they  last  one  day 
more?" 

The  black  head  nodded  emphatically. 

"  Can  they  last  two  days?  " 

Another  nod. 

"A  week?" 

'75 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

Fridtjof  the  Bold  took  refuge  in  sullenness.  "They 
can  last  two  weeks  as  easily  as  one.  How  much  longer 
are  you  going  to  keep  me  from  food?  " 

She  was  free  after  that  to  do  anything  she  liked, 
for  their  excitement  was  so  great  that  they  forgot  her 
existence.  Those  whose  fluency  was  not  hampered  by 
their  feelings,  relieved  their  minds  by  cursing.  Those 
whose  anger  could  be  vented  only  in  action,  made  after 
the  blundering  serf.  And  the  few  who  were  boldest 
turned  and  bearded  the  son  of  Lodbrok  himself. 

"How  much  longer  must  we  endure  this?"  .  .  . 
"  Think  of  the  game  we  are  missing !"..."  There  is 
little  need  to  remind  me.  My  naked  fists  could  bat- 
ter the  stones  from  their  places  —  "  ..."  In  a  week 
more,  it  is  possible  that  England  may  be  won !  "  .  .  . 
"  What  do  you  care  for  their  wretched  land,  chief?  " 
.  .  .  "Chief,  how  much  longer  must  we  lie  here?" 

When  that  question  was  finally  out,  every  man 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  straightening  in  his  place  like 
a  dog  that  is  pricking  his  ears,  and  there  was  a  pause. 

A  fell  look  came  into  the  Jotun's  face  as  he  gazed 
back  at  them;  and  for  a  time  it  seemed  that  he  would 
either  answer  with  his  fist  or  not  at  all.  But  at  length 
he  began  to  speak  in  a  voice  as  keen  and  hard  as  his 
sword. 

"  You  know  my  temper,  and  that  I  must  have  my 
will.  Always  I  have  thought  it  shame  that  my  kins- 
man's odal  should  lie  in  English  hands,  and  now  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  put  an  end  to  it.  You  know  that 
I  am  in  no  way  greedy  for  property.  When  I  obtain 

176 


HOW  FRIDTJOF  CHEATED  THE  JOTUN 

the  victory,  you  shall  have  every  acre  and  every  stick 
on  it  to  burn  or  plunder  or  keep,  as  best  pleases  you. 
But  I  do  not  want  to  reproach  myself  longer  with  my 
neglect;  and  whether  it  take  two  weeks  or  whether  it 
take  twenty  — "  He  interrupted  himself  to  bend  for- 
ward, shading  his  eyes  with  his  hands.  "  If  I  am  not 
much  mistaken,"  he  said  in  quite  another  voice,  "yonder 
is  Brass  Borgar  at  last !  Yonder,  near  those  oak-trees." 

In  an  instant  they  had  all  turned  to  scan  the  moon- 
lit open.  And  now  that  they  were  silent,  the  thud  of 
hoofs  became  distinct.  Shouting  their  welcome,  some 
hurried  to  heap  fresh  fuel  on  the  fire,  and  some  ran 
after  more  ale-skins;  while  others  rushed  forward  to 
meet  the  messenger  and  run  beside  his  horse,  riddling 
him  with  questions. 

Folding  his  arms,  the  chief  awaited  him  in  grim 
silence.  If  glances  could  have  burned,  he  would  have 
writhed  under  the  look  that  a  pair  of  iris-blue  eyes 
was  dealing  him  over  a  bread  crust.  But  it  may  be 
that  his  skin  was  particularly  thick,  for  he  betrayed 
no  uneasiness  whatever. 

When  the  man  finally  stood  before  him,  Rothgar 
said  sternly,  "  It  is  time  you  were  here !  Ten  days 
have  gone  over  your  head  since  I  sent  you  out.  You 
must  do  one  of  two  things,  —  either  tell  great  tidings 
or  submit  to  sharp  words." 

The  Brass  One  laughed  as  he  saluted.  "  I  should 
have  been  liable  to  sharp  steel  had  I  come  sooner, 
chief.  Would  you  have  taken  it  well  if  I  had  left 
without  knowing  how  it  went  with  the  battle?" 

12  177 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  Battle ! "  three-score  mouths  cried  as  with  one 
voice.  "Who  were  victorious?" 

The  man  laughed  again.  "  Should  I  come  to  you 
with  a  noisy  voice  and  my  chin  held  high,  if  other  than 
one  thing  had  happened?  Honor  to  the  Thunderer, 
the  Raven  possessed  the  field !  " 

Such  a  clamor  arose  as  though  the  wolf-pack  had 
tasted  blood.  Three  times,  through  the  trumpet  of  his 
hands,  Rothgar  bawled  a  command  for  silence.  "  One 
horn  you  may  have,  then  all  this  must  be  told  before  you 
eat,"  he  gave  orders.  And  he  strode  restlessly  to  and  fro 
until  the  time  came  when  the  horn  stood  on  end  above 
the  man's  mouth  and  then  was  lowered  reluctantly. 

Drawing  his  hand  across  his  lips,  the  Brass  One 
cleared  his  throat.  "  At  your  pleasure,  chief.  Is  it  to 
your  mind  to  begin  with  the  battle?  Or  do  you  rather 
wish  to  hear  of  my  journey  thence?  I  admit  that  that 
part  is  somewhat  likely  to  stick  in  my  teeth  and  in  your 
ears.  From  Otford  to  Shepey  was  little  better  than  a 
retreat,  and  if  —  " 

"  The  battle !  the  battle !  "  a  chorus  of  voices  cried, 
and  the  chief  confirmed  the  choice. 

"  The  battle,  by  all  means !  The  other  will  do  for 
lesser  dishes  when  the  first  edge  is  off  our  appetite. 
Where  was  it?  And  how  long  since?  Yet,  before  any 
of  these,  how  goes  it  with  my  royal  foster-brother? 
And  how  do  his  traitors  carry  sail,  Odin's  curse  upon 
them!  Speak!  How  fares  he?" 

"  On  the  top  of  the  wave,  my  chief,  —  though  it  is 
my  belief  that  he  has  your  mind  toward  Edric  Jarl,  for 

178 


HOW  FRIDTJOF  CHEATED  THE  JOTUN 

all  that  Thorkel  is  ever  on  hand  to  urge  the  value 
of  his  craft.  And  certainly  it  was  exceedingly  useful 
to  them  at  Assington  —  " 

"  Assington!  "  ..."  In  Essex?  "  the  chorus  broke 
in  upon  him.  "  It  happened  as  Grimalf  said  —  "... 
"  —  the  horse  with  the  bloody  saddle  which  he  found 
over  the  hill  — "  .  .  .  "  Do  you  know  for  certain  if 
Edric  — "  .  .  .  "Why  will  you  interrupt  him?"  .  .  . 
"Yes,  end  this  talk!"  .  .  .  "  Go  on,  go  on!" 

"  I  also  say  go  on,  in  the  Troll's  name !  "  the  Jotun 
roared.  "  Go  on  and  tell  us  what  Edric  the  Gainer  did 
which  they  else  could  not  have  done." 

"  I  said  not  that  he  did  what  they  could  not,  chief. 
He  did  what  they  would  not,  as  the  thrall  who  pulls 
off  our  boots  muddies  his  hands  that  we  may  keep  ours 
clean.  And  a  strange  wonder  is  the  way  in  which  the 
English  king  trusts  him  even  after  this  treason  has 
been  committed !  The  Gainer  fled,  with  all  his  men,  at 
the  moment  when  most  King  Edmund  depended  upon 
his  support;  and  in  this  way  left  for  Danish  feet  a 
hewn  path  where  a  forest  of  battle-trees  had  stood." 

Rothgar  took  no  part  in  the  stream  of  questions 
and  comments  that  again  drowned  the  voice  of  the 
messenger,  until  suddenly  he  launched  an  oath  that 
out-thundered  them  all :  "  May  Thor  feel  otherwise 
than  I  do,  for  I  vow  that  were  I  in  his  place,  I  would 
raise  Danish  warriors  in  wool-chests!  Is  that  the 
valor  of  the  descendants  of  Odin,  that  they  go  not  into 
battle  until  a  foul-hearted  traitor  has  swept  the  way 
clean  of  danger?  Is  the  heart  of  the  King  become  wax 

179 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

within  him?  Or  is  it  that  cold-blooded  fox  at  his  side 
that  is  draining  the  manhood  out  of  him?  I  would 
give  much  if  I  had  been  there ! "  Casting  himself  down 
upon  the  bearskin,  he  lay  there  breathing  hard  and 
tearing  the  fur  out  in  great  handfuls. 

Brass  Borgar  spoke  with  the  utmost  deprecation: 
"  I  say  nothing  against  your  feelings,  chief ;  and  there 
are  not  a  few  who  think  as  you  do;  yet  I  ask  you  to 
remember  one  thing.  I  ask  you  to  remember  that  no 
Dane  has  ever  held  back  in  battle  because  he  had  the 
Traitor's  help.  Canute  uses  him  to  strengthen  his 
back;  never  to  shield  his  face.  The  Islanders'  own 
mouths  have  admitted  that  the  odds  are  against  ten 
Englishmen  if  they  face  one  Dane.  I  think  it  is  be- 
cause he  is  out  of  patience  with  the  war  that  the  King 
makes  of  the  Gainer  a  time-saver.  It  has  been  told 
me  that  he  fights  not  for  love  of  it,  nor  yet  for  glory, 
but  because  he  covets  the  land  of  —  " 

Like  the  bellow  of  an  angry  bull,  Rothgar's  voice 
broke  through  his.  "  Land !  Quickly  will  I  proclaim 
my  opinion  of  any  man  who  sets  his  heart  on  that! 
He  who  forgets  glory  in  his  eagerness  for  property, 
deserves  the  curse  of  Thor ! " 

"  Prepare  yourself,  then,  for  a  thunderbolt,  Roth- 
gar  Lodbroksson,"  a  clear  voice  spoke  up  suddenly. 

None  but  had  forgotten  the  red-cloaked  figure 
munching  its  bread  in  the  shadow  behind  them.  One 
and  all  started  in  surprise.  And  the  chief  turned  over 
his  shoulder  a  face  that  was  livid  with  anger.  "  You 
—  you  dare !  "  he  roared. 

•80 


HOW  FRIDTJOF   CHEATED  THE  JOTUN 

But  Randalin's  heart  was  too  full  of  bitterness  to 
leave  any  room  for  fear.  At  the  moment,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  it  did  not  matter  what  happened.  She  stood 
before  the  Jotun  as  straight  and  unbending  as  a  spear- 
shaft,  and  her  eyes  were  reflections  of  his  own.  Her 
wonder  was  great  when  slowly,  even  while  his  eyes 
blazed,  Rothgar's  mouth  began  to  twitch  at  the  cor- 
ners. All  at  once  he  rolled  over  on  his  back  with  a 
shout  of  laughter. 

"  By  Ragnar,  there  will  not  be  many  jests  to  equal 
this !  "  he  gasped.  "  That  a  titmouse  should  ruffle  its 
feathers  and  upbraid  me !  Here  is  merriment !  "  He 
lay  there  laughing  after  the  others  had  joined  in  with 
him;  and  his  face  was  not  entirely  sober  the  next  time 
he  turned  it  toward  her.  "  Good  Berserker,  give  me 
leave  to  live  some  while  longer  in  order  that  I  may 
explain  my  intentions." 

Yet  when  he  had  risen,  a  change  came  into  his 
voice  that  brought  every  man  to  his  feet.  "  We  will 
make  ready  to  go  at  cockcrow,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  If 
it  were  only  a  matter  of  a  couple  of  days,  I  would  wait ; 
but  since  it  will  be  at  least  a  week  before  we  can  ex- 
pect them  to  give  in,  I  think  it  unadvisable  to  waste 
more  time.  Since  the  King  is  in  this  temper,  the  next 
battle  may  well  be  the  last;  and  much  shame  would 
come  of  it  if  we  did  not  have  our  share.  We  will  start 
when  the  cock  crows.  As  soon  as  Canute  gets  the 
kingship  over  the  English  realm,  Ivarsdale  will  fall  to 
me  anyway.  Let  the  Angle  enjoy  himself  until  then." 

181 


CHAPTER    XVI 


THE   SWORD   OF   SPEECH 

Speech-runes  thou  must  know 

If  thou  wilt  that  no  one 

For  injury  with  hate  requite  thee. 

SIGDRIFUMAL. 

O  holiday  finery  tricked  out 
the  Danish  host  where  it 
squatted  along  the  Severn 
Valley  that  dreary  Octo- 
ber day;  neither  festal 
tables  nor  dimpling  women 
nor  even  the  gay  striped 
tents.  Of  all  the  multitude 
of  flags  but  one  banner 
pricked  the  murky  air,  — 
the  Raven  standard  that  marked  the  headquarters  of 
the  King;  and  its  sodden  folds  distinguished  nothing 
more  regal  than  a  shepherd's  wattled  cote.  Scattered 
clumps  of  trees  offered  the  weary  men  their  only  pro- 
tection against  the  drizzling  rain;  and  the  sole  sug- 
gestions of  comfort  were  the  sickly  fires  that  patient 
endeavor  had  managed  to  coax  into  life  in  these  re- 
treats. Some,  whom  exhaustion  had  robbed  even  of  a 
fire-tender's  ambition,  had  dropped  down  on  the  very 

182 


THE   SWORD   OF   SPEECH 

spot  where  they  had  slipped  from  their  saddles,  and 
slept,  cloak-wrapped,  in  the  wet.  And  the  circles  about 
the  fires  were  not  much  noisier. 

Rothgar's  face  gathered  gravity  as  he  gained  the 
crest  of  the  last  hill  that  lay  between  him  and  the 
straggling  encampment. 

"  The  rain  appears  to  fall  as  coldly  on  their  cheer 
as  on  their  fires,"  he  commented.  "  They  hug  the  earth 
like  the  ducks  on  Videy  Island." 

"  And  look  about  as  much  like  warriors  who  have 
got  a  victory,"  the  child  of  Frode  added  wonderingly. 

The  Jotun  threw  her  a  glance,  where  she  rode  at 
his  side.  "  Hear  words  of  fate !  I  think  that  is  the 
first  time  you  have  spoken  in  three  days." 

"  You  would  think  that  great  luck  if  you  knew 
the  kind  of  thoughts  that  have  been  in  my  mind,"  she 
muttered.  But  the  son  of  Lodbrok  was  already  lead- 
ing his  men  down  the  hillside  toward  the  point  where 
the  silken  banner  mocked  at  the  wattled  walls. 

Under  the  thatched  roof  of  the  hut,  a  still  more 
striking  contrast  awaited  the  eyes  of  those  who  en- 
tered. With  a  milking-stool  for  his  table  and  the 
shepherd's  rude  bunk  for  a  throne,  the  young  King  of 
the  Danes  was  bending  in  scowling  meditation  over 
an  open  scroll.  Against  the  mud-plastered  walls,  the 
crimson  splendor  of  his  cloak  and  the  glitter  of  his 
gold  embroideries  gave  him  the  look  of  a  tropical  bird 
in  an  osier  cage;  while  the  fiery  beauty  of  his  face 
shone  like  a  star  in  the  dusk  of  the  windowless  cell. 
Days  in  the  saddle  and  nights  in  the  council  had  pared 

183 


away  every  superfluous  curve  from  cheek  and  chin, 
until  there  was  not  one  line  left  that  did  not  tell  of  im- 
patient energy;  and  every  spark  of  his  burning  soul 
seemed  centred  in  his  brilliant  eyes.  At  the  sight  of 
him,  the  girl's  heart  started  and  shook  like  a  harp- 
string  under  the  touch  of  the  master;  and  Rothgar,  the 
stolid,  the  stern,  who  had  come  to  upbraid,  bowed  rev- 
erently as  he  grasped  the  hand  his  leader  stretched  out. 

"  King,  I  would  not  have  kept  away  had  I  guessed 
that  my  sword  would  be  useful  to  you.  It  was  my  be- 
lief that  you  were  entertaining  yourself  with  getting 
property  in  Mercia,  else  would  I  have  left  all  to  come 
to  you." 

Canute  half  pressed  the  huge  paw  and  then  half 
spurned  it.  "  It  was  in  my  mind  to  give  you  a  great 
scolding  when  I  got  you  again.  I  thought  you  had 
drunk  sea-water  and  blood  out  of  a  magic  horn  and 
forgotten  me  utterly.  You  must  have  gotten  yourself 
fitted  out  for  the  rest  of  your  life  since  at  last  you 
were  willing  to  leave." 

"  Lord,"  Rothgar  began,  "  I  have  come  back  to 
you  as  poor  as  I  went  —  " 

But  the  King  interrupted  him,  as  at  that  moment, 
in  the  figure  hesitating  at  the  door,  he  recognized  his 
missing  ward.  "  Say  not  so,  when  you  have  brought 
back  the  bright  blade  we  mourned  as  lost ! "  He  put 
out  his  other  hand  with  a  gleam  of  pleasure  in  his 
changeful  eyes.  "  Welcome  to  you,  Fridtjof  the  Bold ! 
I  should  like  to  believe  that  you  are  as  glad  to  return 
to  me  as  I  am  glad  to  receive  you." 

184 


THE   SWORD   OF   SPEECH 

As  she  stood  there  watching  him,  Randalin  had 
been  undergoing  a  strange  transformation.  For  four 
months  she  had  almost  forgotten  his  existence,  he  had 
been  little  more  than  an  empty  name,  while  she  gave 
every  energy  of  mind  and  heart  to  the  things  about 
her.  But  now,  behold!  One  sight  of  his  life-full  face, 
one  moment  in  his  dominating  presence,  and  those 
months  were  swept  into  the  land  of  dreams.  His  deeds 
alone  appeared  vital;  he  alone  seemed  real.  She,  the 
Etheling  himself,  were  but  as  shadows  depending  upon 
his  sun-like  career.  If  he  should  choose  to  shine  upon 
them,  what  dark  evil  could  come  nigh?  It  was  in  all 
sincerity  that  she  bent  her  knee  as  she  took  his  hand. 
"  Lord,"  she  cried  impulsively,  "  I  have  brought  you 
back  a  loyal  heart !  I  have  been  very  close  to  the  Eng- 
lish King,  and  he  is  unworthy  to  hold  your  sword." 

Canute  gave  a  sudden  laugh;  but  it  was  a  short 
one,  and  he  turned  away  abruptly  to  begin  a  restless 
pacing  to  and  fro.  "  You  choose  your  words  in  a 
thoughtful  way,"  he  said.  "  It  is  seen  that  you  do  not 
say  how  it  would  be  if  he  were  to  hold  his  sword 
against  mine."  Pausing  before  Rothgar,  he  jerked  his 
head  toward  the  scroll.  "  Do  you  know  what  that  is? 
That  is  a  challenge  from  the  Ironside." 

"A  challenge?"  his  listeners  cried  in  chorus. 

He  seemed  to  take  petulant  offence  at  their  sur- 
prise. "  A  challenge.  Did  you  never  hear  the  word 
before,  that  you  stare  like  oxen?  He  invites  me  to 
settle  this  affair  by  single  combat  on  the  island,  yon- 
der; and  there  is  the  greatest  sense  in  what  he  says. 

185 


THE   WARD    OF   KING    CANUTE 

Every  one  who  has  a  man's  wit  is  tired  of  the  strife; 
and  if  we  continue  at  it,  there  will  not  be  much  to  win 
besides  ashes  and  bones." 

Rothgar  sat  gazing  at  the  wooden  door  as  though 
he  could  see  through  it  the  huddled  groups  outside. 
"  Now  by  no  means  do  I  think  it  strange  that  your 
host  is  not  in  high  spirits,"  he  said. 

With  an  impatient  shrug  the  King  moved  on 
again.  "  It  has  happened,  then,  that  the  news  has 
spread?  I  wonder  whether  they  are  troubling  them- 
selves most  for  fear  that  I  shall  undertake  this  fight 
and  get  killed,  or  for  fear  that  I  shall  turn  back  from 
it  and  the  war  will  be  obliged  to  go  on.  And  I  should 
be  glad  if  I  knew  what  expectation  was  uppermost  in 
the  Gainer's  mind  when  he  made  the  plan.  For  cer- 
tainly one  sees  his  claw  behind  the  pen." 

"  May  wolves  tear  him ! "  Rothgar  burst  out. 
"  Two  kings  he  has  used  as  oaten  pipes,  but  never  did 
I  think  that  you  would  make  the  third." 

Canute's  foot  jarred  upon  the  earth;  his  face  was 
suddenly  aflame.  "  And  never  will  I,  while  my  head 
remains  above  ground!  Now  are  you  even  more  rash 
than  you  are  wont!  It  is  I  who  play  on  him,  not  he 
on  me.  Through  him,  as  through  a  pipe,  I  have 
tempted  Edmund  on;  and  through  him,  as  through  a 
pipe,  I  have  called  Edmund  off;  and  as  with  a  broken 
pipe  I  shall  part  with  him  when  I  am  done, — and  think 
it  no  falseness  either,  since  I  know  for  certain  that  it 
is  the  fate  he  has  in  store  for  me,  as  soon  as  I  cease  to 
be  gainful  for  him."  The  worst  of  the  young  chief's 

186 


THE    SWORD    OF    SPEECH 

nature  showed  for  an  instant  in  the  smile  that  widened 
his  nostrils.  Then  it  gave  way  to  another  flash  of 
temper.  "  Nor  am  I  a  pipe  for  your  plaything,  either. 
What!  Am  I  to  be  as  a  child  between  you  and 
Thorkel,  that  each  time  I  follow  the  advice  of  one  of 
you,  I  am  to  get  a  tongue-lashing  from  the  other? 
Have  you  not  got  it  into  your  head  that  I  am  your 
King?  " 

Rothgar  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  I  do  not  know  if 
I  have  got  it  into  my  head  or  not,"  he  said ;  "  but  I 
am  certain  that  my  body  is  aware  of  your  kingship." 
He  did  not  even  move  his  eyes  toward  the  stump  of 
his  wrist,  but  Canute  turned  from  him  suddenly,  his 
lip  caught  in  his  teeth,  and  once  more  strode  up  and 
down  the  narrow  space. 

After  the  fourth  round,  he  stopped  and  laid  his 
hands  affectionately  upon  his  foster-brother's  shoul- 
ders. "  Too  long  have  we  endured  each  other's  rough- 
ness, comrade,  for  you  to  think  that  unfriendliness  is 
in  my  mind  because  I  foam  over  in  this  way.  I  tell 
you,  you  would  not  wonder  at  it  if  you  knew  the  state 
of  my  feelings.  And  I  will  not  conceal  it  that  I  am 
glad  you  have  come  to  share  them  —  though  I  have 
not  the  intention  to  heed  a  word  of  your  advice,"  he 
added,  half  laughing,  half  threatening.  Pushing  the 
other  down  upon  the  rough  bunk,  he  seated  himself 
beside  him,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  his  chin  cupped 
in  his  palms. 

"The  host  is  full  of  impatience;  and  I  am  weary 
unto  madness.  Never  do  we  come  to  any  end,  nor 

187 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

ever  shall  until  that  time  when  the  wolf  shall  catch  the 
sun !  I  have  nowhere  heard  of  a  more  foolish  war  than 
this.  It  was  in  my  mind,  as  you  came  in,  that  I  would 
send  a  favorable  answer  to  the  Englishman  and  get 
the  matter  decided,  one  way  or  another." 

Even  Randalin  uttered  a  cry;  and  Rothgar  caught 
his  King  by  the  arm  as  though  to  snatch  him  out  of 
bodily  peril. 

"  Only  one  way  would  be  possible,  Canute !  Your 
waist  is  not  so  big  as  one  of  his  arms.  His  sword 
would  cleave  you  as  if  it  cut  water." 

Half  laughing,  but  more  resentful,  the  King  freed 
himself.  "  Now  do  you  hold  my  power  so  lightly? 
More  than  once  have  I  gotten  under  your  guard.  If 
skill  could  accomplish  anything,  you  would  not  have 
to  wait  long  for  what  I  should  fix  upon."  He  broke 
off  with  a  shrug  and  flung  himself  back  upon  the  straw 
of  the  bunk.  "  Let  us  speak  of  something  else,"  he 
said.  "  What  did  the  boy  say  about  having  seen 
Edmund?" 

Somewhat  ramblingly,  as  uncertain  of  his  interest, 
Randalin  told  him  of  her  glimpse  of  the  Ironside;  and 
he  listened  lying  back  on  the  straw,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  ceiling.  She  had  begun  to  think  he  had  forgotten 
her,  when  all  at  once  he  shot  out  a  swift  question: 
"  Did  you  never  find  out  what  the  wool  was  that  Edric 
Jarl  pulled  over  his  eyes?  " 

"  Not  unless  one  could  guess  it  from  what  King 
Edmund  said,  lord,  —  that  the  Jarl  had  found  them 
so  much  cleverer  than  he  expected  that  his  victory  was 

188 


THE   SWORD   OF   SPEECH 

without  relish  to  him,  and  he  was  desirous  to  regain 
their  friendship." 

A  distinct  chuckle  came  from  Canute,  and  some 
murmur  about  the  Ironside's  chin.  Then  he  said,  "  Go 
on,  and  tell  me  everything  you  can  remember  " ;  and 
once  more  lay  staring  at  the  ceiling  in  silence. 

He  did  not  appear  to  notice  it  when  she  stopped; 
the  pause  lasted  so  long  that  Rothgar  concluded  that 
sleep  had  overtaken  their  host  and  rose  softly  to  betake 
himself  to  such  cheer  as  the  fires  offered.  As  he  made 
the  first  step,  however,  Canute  sat  up  suddenly,  strik- 
ing his  fist  upon  the  bunk. 

"I  will  do  it!"  he  said.  While  they  stared,  he 
rose  and  recommenced  his  hurried  pacing,  his  eyes 
keen  and  far  away,  his  mouth  set  in  grim  resolve. 

"  Do  what,  King?  "  the  son  of  Lodbrok  ventured 
at  last. 

Canute's  eyes  appeared  to  rest  upon  the  pair  with- 
out seeing  them.  "  Accept  the  challenge,"  he  answered 
absently.  Then  the  utter  horror  in  both  faces  brought 
him  momentarily  back.  "  You  need  not  look  like  that. 
I  would  not  do  it  if  I  did  not  see  a  good  chance  to  win. 
There  are  other  weapons  than  those  which  dwell  in 
sheaths." 

"But  if  you  lose?"  Rothgar's  harsh  voice  was 
discordant  with  emotion.  "  If  you  lose  ?  " 

The  King  silenced  him  impatiently.  "  I  do  not 
think  I  shall  lose ;  but  if  it  be  otherwise,  then  Fate  will 
rule  it.  I  prefer  to  risk  everything  rather  than  to  ex- 
perience more  delay."  Catching  the  bewildered  page 

189 


THE   WARD   OF    KING   CANUTE 

by  the  collar,  he  pushed  him  toward  the  door.  "  Run, 
boy,  with  all  the  speed  of  your  legs,  and  find  Ingimund 
the  Swimmer  and  fetch  him  here.  And  you,  foster- 
brother,  if  my  fame  is  important  to  you,  do  you  be- 
take yourself  to  those  dumpish  oafs  around  the  fires 
and  try,  by  any  means  whatever,  to  remedy  their  faint- 
heartedness. Ask  them  if  they  want  the  host  across 
the  river  to  think  them  turned  into  a  herd  of  weeping 
bondwomen.  Ask  them  if  they  think  thus  to  show 
honor  to  their  King.  Tell  them  that  I  take  it  as  no 
proof  of  their  love ;  that  I  will  have  none  of  that  halt- 
ing faith  which  limps  up  with  a  great  cry  after  the 
show  is  over.  Tell  them  —  Oh,  tell  them  anything  you 
think  worth  while  —  only  that  you  get  some  noise  out 
of  them!  Evil  will  come  of  it  if  the  Englishman  is 
allowed  to  believe  that  he  has  beaten  us  before  ever 
he  has  struck  a  blow." 

Rothgar  sighed  as  he  moved  forward.  "  I  am  very 
unfit  to  speak  words  of  cheerfulness  to  anybody;  but 
this  shall,  like  other  things,  be  as  you  wish." 


190 


CHAPTER    XVII 


THE   JUDGMENT   OF   THE    IRON    VOICE 

His  power  should 

Every  sagacious  man 

Use  with  discretion, 

For  he  will  find, 

When  among  the  bold  he  comes, 

That  no  one  alone  is  doughtiest. 

HAVAMAL. 

I  OLD  by  fold,  the  sun's 
golden  fingers  drew  apart 
the  mists  that  hid  the  val- 
ley. One  by  one,  the  red 
Severn  cliffs  were  uncov- 
[ered,  and  the  wooded  steeps 
'on  which  the  rival  hosts 
[were  encamped.  Brighter 
land  brighter  the  river's 
[silver  gleamed  through  its 
veilings.  Finally  the  moment  came  when  the  last 
mist-wreath  floated  up  like  a  curtain,  and  there  lay 
open  the  shining  water,  and  the  rocky  islet  it  seethed 
about,  and  the  vision  of  two  boats  setting  forth  from 
the  two  shores  amid  the  noise  of  shouting  thousands. 
It  was  the  hour  of  the  royal  duel,  when  the  fate-thread 
of  a  nation,  beaded  with  human  destinies,  lay  between 

191 


THE   WARD   OF    KING   CANUTE 

the  fingers  of  two  men.    What  a  scattering  of  the  beads 
if  the  cord  should  be  cut! 

Under  the  elms  of  the  east  bank,  the  daughter  of 
Frode  stood  and  watched  the  boats  set  out;  and  the 
hands  that  hung  at  her  side  opened  and  shut  as  though 
they  were  gasping  for  breath.  For  a  moment  she  tor- 
tured herself  with  the  thought  that  she  knew  not  which 
side  to  pray  for,  since  the  victory  of  either  would  mean 
her  beloved's  undoing;  then  she  forgot  Sebert's  future 
in  her  own  present.  Turning,  she  found  herself  facing  a 
wall  of  stalwart  bodies,  a  sea  of  coarse  faces,  and  dis- 
covered, with  a  sudden  tightening  of  her  muscles,  that 
all  the  eyes  which  were  not  following  the  boat  were 
centred  curiously  upon  herself. 

Before  she  could  take  a  step,  the  nearest  warrior 
thrust  out  a  hand  and  caught  her  by  her  black  locks. 
"  Stop  a  little,  my  Bold  One,"  he  said  gruffly.  "  Now  that 
you  have  a  moment  to  spare  from  the  high-born  folk, 
it  is  the  wish  of  us  churls  to  hear  some  of  your  news." 

A  score  of  heavy  voices  seconded  the  demand,  and 
the  wall  gradually  curved  into  a  circle  around  her. 
They  were  good-natured  enough,  —  even  the  grasp  on 
her  hair  was  roughly  playful,  —  but  her  heart  seemed 
to  stop  in  her  as  a  swimmer's  might  the  first  instant 
he  lost  sight  of  land  and  beheld  only  towering  billows 
looming  around  him.  She  darted  one  swift  glance  at 
her  knife,  and  another  at  an  old  willow-tree  that  over- 
hung the  bank,  some  thirty  yards  away.  But  even  as 
she  thought  it,  the  hand  left  her  hair  and  closed  about 
her  wrist. 

192 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  THE  IRON  VOICE 

"  No  cause  for  knife-play  or  leg-play  either,  my 
hawk,"  the  gruff  voice  rebuked  her.  "  To  no  one  are 
we  more  anxious  to  show  friendship  than  to  Canute's 
ward;  and  you  act  like  no  true  man  if  you  cannot, 
when  occasion  requires,  leave  off  your  high-born  ways 
and  be  a  plain  comrade  among  plain  men." 

Again  a  murmur  approved  his  words :  "  That  is 
well  spoken.  Frode  of  Avalcomb  would  be  the  first 
to  thank  us  for  teaching  it  to  you."  ..."  He  carried 
no  such  haughty  head,  young  boy.  I  fought  more  than 
one  battle  at  his  heels."  ..."  Come  on,  now !  "  .  .  . 
"  Make  haste !  We  want  to  get  into  place  before  they 
come  to  land." 

This  time  it  was  not  a  shadow  but  a  sparkle  of 
sunshine  that  mocked  in  Randalin's  ear :  "  You  have 
not  dared  to  be  a  woman,  so  you  must  dare  to  be  a 
man."  She  acknowledged  the  pitiless  truth  with  a 
sigh  of  submission. 

"  Take  your  hands  off  me,  and  it  shall  be  as  you 
wish." 

The  big  Swede  released  her  wrist  to  catch  her 
around  the  waist  and  toss  her  like  a  bone  upon  the 
platter  of  his  shield,  which  four  of  them  promptly 
raised  between  them  and  bore  along,  laughing  uproari- 
ously at  her  sprawling  efforts  for  dignity.  When  they 
came  to  a  spot  along  the  bank  which  was  open  enough 
to  give  them  an  unobstructed  view  of  the  island,  they 
permitted  her  to  scramble  down  and  seat  herself  upon 
the  grass,  where  they  ringed  themselves  around  her, 
twenty  deep. 

13  193 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  Now  for  it !  While  they  are  waiting  for  Edmund 
to  land;  before  there  is  anything  to  watch,"  the  Scar- 
Cheek  commanded.  "  Tell  what  you  told  Canute  with 
regard  to  the  English  King  which  made  him  so  reck- 
less as  to  agree  to  this  bargain." 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  obedience.  A  flower 
in  a  thicket  of  thistles,  a  lamb  in  the  midst  of  wolves, 
she  sat  and  watched  the  tipping  of  the  scales  that  had 
her  fortune  among  their  weights. 

A  shout  from  the  surging  mass  of  English  oppo- 
site told  when  the  Ironside  had  landed;  and  as  soon 
as  it  was  seen  whom  he  had  chosen  to  accompany  him 
as  his  witness,  a  buzz  of  excitement  passed  along  the 
Danish  line. 

"Edric!   by  all  the  gods,  Edric  Jarl!" 

"  Now,  for  the  first  time,  I  believe  that  victory 
will  follow  Canute's  sword!"  Brass  Borgar  ejaculated. 
"  Since  nothing  less  than  the  madness  betokening 
death  could  cause  Edmund  to  continue  his  trust  in  the 
Gainer,  it  is  seen  from  this  that  he  is  a  death-fated 
man." 

From  the  others  there  came  a  volley  of  epithets, 
so  foul  a  flight  that  the  girl's  knuckles  whitened  in  her 
struggles  to  keep  her  hands  down  from  her  ears.  A 
picture  rose  in  her  mind  of  Sebert's  dream-lady,  pass- 
ing her  waiting-time  among  soft-voiced  maids,  and  her 
heart  turned  sick  within  her. 

It  was  little  time  that  the  pack  gave  her  for  revery, 
however;  now  it  was  Edric  Jarl  of  whom  they  wanted 
to  hear. 

194 


THE  JUDGMENT   OF  THE  IRON   VOICE 

"  While  they  are  talking  about  the  terms,  there  is 
nothing  to  look  at;  tell  us  how  the  Gainer  pulled  the 
net  around  King  Edmund,"  the  rough  voices  demanded. 
And  again  she  was  obliged  to  bend  her  wits  to  their 
task. 

But  it  came  at  last,  the  end  that  was  the  begin- 
ning. Suddenly  a  hand  reached  around  her  neck  and 
shut  over  her  mouth.  "  Stop !  They  are  taking  their 
places.  Look ! " 

He  need  not  have  added  that  last  word;  from 
that  moment  for  many  thousands  of  eyes  there  was 
but  one  object  in  the  world,  —  the  strip  of  rock- 
ribbed  earth  and  the  two  figures  that  faced  each  other 
upon  it. 

As  they  fixed  their  gaze  on  their  champion,  the 
English  yelled  exultantly,  and  the  Danes  bravely 
rivalled  them  in  noise;  but  it  was  more  a  cry  of  rage 
and  grief  than  a  cheer.  Now  that  the  royal  duellists 
stood  forth  together,  stripped  of  cloak  and  steel  shirt, 
and  wearing  no  other  helm  than  the  golden  circlet  of 
their  rank,  their  inequality  was  even  more  glaring  than 
alarmed  fancy  had  painted  it.  The  crown  of  Canute's 
shining  locks  reached  only  to  the  chin  of  the  mighty 
Ironside;  and  the  width  of  nearly  two  palms  was 
needed  on  his  shoulders. 

Borgar  turned,  with  tears  in  his  bleared  eyes,  and 
threw  himself  face-downward  on  the  earth;  and  the 
fellow  next  to  him,  with  the  mien  of  a  madman,  thrust 
his  mantle  between  his  teeth  and  bit  and  tore  at  it  like 
a  dog.  "  It  is  murder,"  he  snarled,  "  murder." 

195 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Of  all  the  Northmen,  the  young  King  alone  ap- 
peared serenely  undisturbed.  When  he  had  saluted 
the  Ironside  with  royal  courtesy,  he  met  his  sword  as 
though  he  were  beginning  a  practising  bout  with  his 
foster-brother.  Smoothly,  evenly,  without  haste  or 
fury,  the  blades  began  to  sing  their  wordless  song  to 
the  listening  banks. 

After  a  time  Borgar  dared  to  raise  his  face  from 
the  grass.  "Is  he  yet  alive?"  he  whispered. 

The  men  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  Humped  over 
the  earth,  with  starting  eyes  and  necks  stretched  to  their 
uttermost,  they  were  like  so  many  boulders.  Nor  did 
Frode's  daughter  seem  to  feel  that  the  hand  the  Brass 
One  had  raised  himself  upon  was  crushing  her  foot; 
she  did  not  even  glance  toward  him  as  she  answered: 
"  Simpleton !  Do  you  think  the  King  does  not  know 
how  to  handle  his  weapon?  If  only  his  strength  —  " 

Her  sentence  was  not  finished,  and  the  man  next 
to  her  drew  in  his  breath  with  a  great  whistling  rush. 
Canute's  weapon,  playing  with  the  lightness  of  a  sun- 
beam, had  evaded  a  stroke  of  the  great  flail  and  touched 
for  an  instant  the  shoulder  of  its  wielder.  Had  he  put 
a  pound  more  force  into  the  thrust —  A  groan  crept 
down  the  Danish  line  when  the  bright  blade  rose,  as 
lightly  as  it  had  fallen,  and  continued  its  butterfly 
dance.  It  consoled  them  a  little,  however,  that  no 
cheer  went  up  from  the  English,  —  only  a  low  buzz 
that  was  half  of  anger,  half  of  astonishment. 

Farther  along  the  eastern  bank,  where  Thorkel 
the  Tall  stood  beside  Ulf  Jarl  and  Eric  of  Norway, 

196 


THE  JUDGMENT   OF  THE  IRON   VOICE 

there  was  not  even  a  groan.  The  first  rift  came  in  the 
puzzled  clouds  of  Eric's  face.  "  Here  is  the  first  hap- 
pening that  makes  me  hope !  "  he  said.  "  If  he  has 
something  more  than  his  fencing  accomplishment  to 
support  him,  it  may  be  that  an  unfavorable  outcome 
need  not  be  expected." 

The  Tall  One's  brows  relaxed  ever  so  little  from 
their  snarl  of  worry.  "  The  boy  has  experienced  good 
training,  for  all  that  he  has  at  present  the  appearance 
of  a  gieat  fool.  If  Rothgar's  warrior  skill  is  in  his 
arm,  yet  my  caution  should  be  in  his  head." 

Certainly  there  was  no  Berserk  madness  about  the 
young  Danishman;  there  was  hardly  even  seriousness. 
Now  his  blade  was  a  fleeing  will-o'-the-wisp,  keeping 
just  out  of  reach  of  Edmund's  brand  with  apparently 
no  thought  but  of  flight.  Now,  when  the  Ironside's 
increasing  vehemence  betrayed  him  into  an  instant's 
rashness,  it  was  a  humming-bird  darting  into  a  flower- 
cup.  But  it  always  rose  again  as  daintily  as  it  had 
alighted. 

The  Danish  bank  was  frantic  with  excitement. 
"  It  is  the  dance  of  the  Northern  Lights ! "  they  cried. 
"  Thor  has  sent  him  his  own  sword !  " 

The  lines  of  English  were  wild  with  anger.  "  Crush 
him,  the  hornet,  the  wasp !  Crush  him,  Edmund !  "  they 
roared. 

In  his  exultation,  the  Scar-Cheek  rolled  himself 
over  and  over  on  the  grass,  and  wound  up  by  thrust- 
ing his  shaggy  head  into  the  lap  of  the  red-cloaked 
page.  "  I  must  do  something  for  joy,"  he  panted ; 

197 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  and  —  except  for  your  hair  —  you  look  near  enough 
like  a  handsome  woman.  Do  you  bend  down  and  kiss 
me  every  time  Canute  pricks  him." 

His  head  fell  to  the  ground  with  a  thump  as  the 
child  of  Frode  leaped  to  her  feet. 

"  If  you  lay  finger  on  me  again,"  she  whispered, 
"  I  will  caress  you  with  this ! "  and  for  an  instant  a 
knife-blade  glittered  before  the  bulging  eyes.  Snorri 
rolled  back  with  alacrity  and  an  oath;  and  after  a 
moment  Frode's  daughter  dropped  down  again  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  If  the  King  should  be 
slain  and  she  be  left  adrift  in  this  foul  sea !  She  might 
as  well  have  screamed  as  moaned,  for  all  that  they 
would  have  noticed. 

About  this  time  Canute's  blade  appeared  to  have 
become  in  earnest.  Ceasing  its  airy  defence,  it  took 
on  the  aggressive.  Instead  of  a  flitting  sunbeam,  it 
became  a  shaft  from  a  burning  glass;  instead  of  one 
merry  humming-bird,  it  became  a  whole  swarm  of 
skimming,  swooping,  darting  swallows,  waging  war 
on  a  bewildered  owl.  Before  the  sudden  fury  of  the 
onslaught,  Edmund  gave  back  a  pace.  And  either 
because  his  anger  made  him  reckless  or  his  great  bulk 
was  against  him,  he  presently  was  forced  to  draw  back 
another  step.  Wildest  cheers  went  up  from  the  North- 
men. It  seemed  as  though  they  would  wade  in  a  body 
across  the  river. 

Only  Eric  of  Norway  stamped  with  uneasiness; 
and  the  overhanging  brows  of  Thorkel  the  Tall  were 
as  lowering  hoods  above  his  eyes.  "  Well  has  he 

198 


THE  JUDGMENT  OF  THE  IRON  VOICE 

hoarded  his  strength,"  he  muttered.  "  Well  has  he 
saved  it,  yet  —  yet  —  " 

At  that  moment  such  a  roar  went  up  from  North- 
ern throats  as  might  well  have  startled  the  wolf's 
shadow  off  the  face  of  the  sun;  for  Edmund  Iron- 
side had  retreated  a  third  step,  and  the  Dane's  point 
appeared  to  lie  at  the  Englishman's  heart.  Then  the 
uproar  died  somewhere  in  mid-air,  for  in  what  seemed 
the  very  act  of  thrusting,  Canute  had  leaped  backward 
and  lowered  his  blade.  So  deep  was  the  hush  on  either 
side  the  river  that  the  whir  of  a  bird's  wing  sounded 
as  loud  as  a  flight  of  arrows.  Bending  forward,  with 
strained  ears  and  starting  eyes,  the  spectators  saw  that 
the  Northern  King  was  speaking,  eagerly,  with  now 
and  then  an  impulsive  gesture,  while  the  English  King 
listened  motionless. 

"Has  he  got  out  of  his  wits?"  the  Scar-Cheek 
roared,  fairly  dancing  with  impatience. 

In  Randalin's  face  a  flash  of  memory  was  strug- 
gling with  bewilderment.  "  Other  weapons  than  those 
which  dwell  in  sheaths."  Had  he  meant  "  the  sword 
of  speech,"  his  tongue? 

With  the  deliberate  grace  which  characterized  his 
every  motion,  the  Ironside  slid  his  sword  back  to  its 
case,  and  they  saw  him  take  a  slow  step  forward  and 
slowly  extend  his  hand.  Then  they  saw  Canute  spring 
to  meet  him,  and  their  palms  touch  in  a  long  grasp. 

From  the  English  shore  there  went  up  a  joyful 
shout  of  "  Peace ! "  And  a  deafening  clamor  rose  in 
answer  from  the  Danish  bank.  But  what  sentiment 

199 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

predominated  in  that,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say. 
Blended  with  rejoicing  over  their  King's  safety,  were 
cries  of  bitter  disappointment,  the  cries  of  thirsty  men 
who  have  seen  wine  dashed  from  their  lips. 

In  their  retreat,  the  two  Northern  jarls  and  the 
young  monarch's  foster-father  faced  each  other  uncer- 
tainly. "Here  is  mystery!"  Eric  of  Norway  said  at  last. 
"  I  should  be  thankful  if  you  would  tell  me  whether 
he  thought  it  unwise  to  kill  the  Englishman  before  the 
face  of  his  army ;  or  whether  he  is  in  truth  struck  with 
love  toward  him,  as  the  fools  seem  to  believe?" 

"  Or  whether  he  had  reached  the  exact  limit  of  his 
strength  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  save  himself  by 
some  trick  of  words  ?  "  Ulf  Jarl  suggested. 

The  Tall  One  shook  his  head  slowly.  "  Now,  as 
always,  it  is  he  alone  who  can  altogether  explain  his 
actions.  It  might  easily  be  that  in  his  mad  impatience 
he  overvalued  his  strength,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to 
stop  short  to  keep  within  bounds.  But  I  think  you 
will  find  that  there  is  still  some  trick  which  is  not 
open  to  our  sight.  His  man-wit  is  deepening  very  fast ; 
I  will  not  be  so  bold  as  to  say  that  I  can  always 
fathom  it." 

"  Perhaps  he  thinks  a  short  peace  would  be  useful 
to  the  host,"  the  Norwegian  said,  and  laughed.  "  Such 
a  truce  is  as  comfortable  as  a  cloak  when  the  weather 
is  stark,  and  as  easy  to  get  rid  of  when  the  sun  comes 
out." 

By  their  faces,  the  others  appeared  to  agree  with 
him;  but  before  they  could  express  themselves,  a 

200 


THE  JUDGMENT   OF  THE  IRON   VOICE 

swimmer  rose  like  a  dripping  seal  out  of  the  water  at 
their  feet. 

"  Peace  and  division  again !  "  he  cried  breathlessly. 
"  And  it  is  the  King's  will  that  you  get  into  a  boat  and 
come  to  him  at  once." 

The  rush  of  the  crowd  to  the  water-side  to  ques- 
tion the  messenger  gave  Randalin  her  chance  for  free- 
dom; and  she  was  not  slow  in  taking  it.  A  moment 
more,  and  she  was  in  the  very  top  of  the  willow-tree, 
clasping  her  hands  and  wringing  them  in  alternate 
thanksgiving  and  terror. 

"  Whatever  it  bring  upon  me,  I  will  get  back  to 
my  woman's  clothes,"  she  vowed  to  herself  over  and 
over.  "  Though  it  become  a  hindrance  to  me,  though 
it  be  the  cause  of  my  death,  I  will  be  a  woman  always. 
Odin  forgive  me  that  I  thought  I  had  courage  enough 
to  be  a  man! " 


201 


CHAPTER    XVIII 


WHAT   THE   RED   CLOAK   HID 

At  eve,  the  day  is  to  be  praised ; 
A  woman,  after  she  is  dead. 

HAVAMAL. 

N  the  vault  overhead  blue 
had  deepened  into  purple, 
and  all  the  silver  star-lamps 
had  been  hung  out,  their 
flames  trembling  unceas- 
ingly in  the  playing  winds. 
By  the  soft  light,  the  Jotun, 
jwho  was  striding  across  the 
Danish  camp,  saw  a  grace- 
ful boyish  form  leave  the 
circle  around  the  King's  fire  and  join  a  group  of 
mounted  men  waiting  on  the  river  bank,  some  fifty 
yards  away. 

"Ho  there,  Fridtjof!"  he  roared  wrathfully. 
The  figure  turned,  and  he  had  a  fleeting  glimpse 
of  a  hand  waved  in  mocking  farewell.  Then  the  boy 
sprang  into  the  saddle  of  a  horse  that  one  of  the  war- 
riors was  holding,  and  the  whole  band  moved  forward 
at  a  swinging  pace. 

202 


WHAT   THE    RED    CLOAK    HID 

"  If  you  had  waited  a  little,  you  would  be  less 
light  on  your  feet,"  the  Jotun  growled  as  he  strode 
on,  striking  his  heels  savagely  upon  the  frosty 
ground. 

"Where  is  the  King?"  he  demanded,  as  soon  as 
he  had  reached  the  ring  of  nobles  sipping  mead  around 
the  royal  fire.  Between  swallows*  they  were  carrying 
on  a  heated  discussion  of  the  day's  events;  but  Eric 
of  Norway  stopped  long  enough  to  nod  toward  the 
wattled  hut  beneath  the  silken  banner. 

"  In  there ;  and  I  will  give  you  this  chain  off  my 
neck  if  you  can  guess  what  he  is  doing." 

"  It  is  likely  that  he  is  busy  with  messengers," 
Rothgar  said  with  an  accent  of  vexation.  "  I  had 
hoped  to  reach  him  before  he  finished  drinking,  but 
there  was  a  brawl  among  my  men  which  —  " 

"  He  is  playing  chess,"  Eric  said  dryly. 

"Chess!" 

The  Norwegian  nodded  as  he  swallowed.  "  Heard 
you  ever  anything  to  equal  that?  He  has  the  appear- 
ance of  a  boy  who  has  been  released  from  a  lesson. 
I  wish  that  you  had  been  here  to  see  him  at  meal-time. 
So  full  of  jests  and  banter  was  he  that  I  could  scarcely 
eat  for  laughing.  Yet  when  I  took  courage  from  his 
good-nature  to  ask  him  concerning  his  plans  for  the 
future,  he  pretended  that  he  did  not  hear  me,  and  put 
an  end  to  questioning  by  bidding  Ulf  come  and  play 
chess  with  him  in  the  hut.  Whether  he  is  mad,  or 
bewitched,  or  feigning  like  Amleth,  it  is  not  easy  to 
tell." 

203 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  any  of  these,"  Rothgar  said 
slowly.  "  I  think  it  is  because  he  likes  it  so  well  that 
he  has  got  peace  in  which  to  amuse  himself.  Sooner 
would  he  hunt  than  fight,  any  day;  and  I  have  often 
seen  him  express  pleasure  in  this  manner.  I  remember 
how  his  wife  Elfgiva  once  said  of  him  that  it  was 
well  his  crown  was  no  more  than  a  ring  of  gold,  for 
then,  when  his  mood  changed,  he  could  use  it  for  such 
a  gold  hoop  as  kings'  children  are  wont  to  play  with." 

"  Said  Elfgiva  of  Northampton  that?  "  Eric  asked 
in  surprise.  "  Never  would  I  have  believed  her  so 
wise  in  words.  That  she  is  the  most  beautiful  of 
women,  all  the  world  knows;  but  I  have  always  sup- 
posed that  her  wit  stopped  with  her  temper,  which  is 
suspected  to  be  shorter  than  her  hair." 

Rothgar  grunted  scornfully.  "  It  is  easy  for  a  fool 
to  speak  some  wisdom  if  she  keeps  her  tongue  moving 
all  the  time." 

Laughing,  the  Norwegian  plunged  again  into  the 
general  discussion;  and  the  son  of  Lodbrok  stood  lis- 
tening discontentedly,  while  he  kept  a  sharp  watch  of 
the  low-browed  entrance. 

Presently  his  patience  was  rewarded.  Within  the 
hut  there  arose  all  at  once  a  duet  of  voices,  half  angrily 
accusing,  half  laughingly  protesting.  Then  the  chess- 
board came  flying  through  the  doorway,  followed  by 
a  handful  of  chessmen  and  the  person  of  the  big  good- 
natured  Jarl,  still  uttering  his  laughing  protests.  And 
finally  Canute  himself  stood  under  the  lintel,  storming 
through  his  laughter. 

304 


WHAT   THE    RED    CLOAK    HID 

"  Blockhead,  that  you  cannot  keep  your  thoughts 
on  what  you  are  doing!  One  might  expect  as  good  a 
game  from  the  tumbler's  dog.  Is  it  the  drink  that  you 
have  got  into  your  head,  or  the  war  matters  that  you 
cannot  get  out?  You  deserve  —  " 

"  To  lose  the  honor  of  playing  with  the  King,"  the 
Jotun  broke  in,  making  a  long  step  forward.  "  Be  so 
good  as  to  allow  me  to  take  his  place,  lord.  I  have 
some  words  for  your  ear  which  are  worth  a  hearing." 

"Rothgar!"  the  King  exclaimed  with  great  cor- 
diality, and  stepped  from  the  doorway  to  meet  him. 
"  Willingly  do  I  make  the  change,  for  I  have  been 
wishing  to  speak  with  you  this  last  hour.  I  have 
thought  of  a  fine  plan  for  to-morrow's  sport."  Laying 
his  arm  boy-fashion  across  his  foster-brother's  shoul- 
ders, he  swung  him  around  toward  the  river.  "  But 
we  will  not  go  in  there  to  do  our  talking.  We  will 
walk  along  the  shore.  To-night  I  feel  as  though  I 
could  walk  to  the  rainbow-bridge."  He  shook  back 
his  headful  of  long  hair  and  drew  a  deep  breath,  like 
a  man  from  whom  a  burden  has  been  lifted. 

As  they  strolled  beside  the  moonlit  water,  the  son 
of  Lodbrok  listened  in  secret  amazement  to  the  string 
of  plans  that  unfolded  itself,  —  hunts  and  horse-races, 
swimming  matches  and  fishing  trips. 

"But  where  will  you  get  the  fishing  tackle,  lord? 
And  the  hawks  and  the  hounds  for  all  this?"  he  ven- 
tured presently. 

They  were  some  little  distance  up  the  bank  now, 
where  trees  screened  them  from  the  camp-fires.  Sud- 

205 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

denly  the  young  King  made  a  leaping  grab  at  a  bough 
overhead  and  hung  by  it,  looking  down  at  his  com- 
panion with  the  face  of  a  mischievous  boy. 

"  How  joyfully  you  will  take  my  answer !  I  have 
sent  to  Northampton  for  them.  And  I  have  bidden 
Elfgiva  accompany  them,  with  all  her  following  of 
maids  and  lap-dogs  and  beardless  boys.  Before  the 
end  of  the  week,  I  expect  that  the  Abbey  guest-house 
will  have  the  appearance  of  a  woman's  bower;  and 
the  monks  will  have  taken  to  the  woods." 

As  his  foster-brother  stood  gazing  at  him  in 
speechless  dismay,  he  laughed  maliciously.  "  Where 
are  your  manners,  partner,  that  you  do  not  praise  my 
foresight?  Here  am  I  eager  to  go  to  her  to  celebrate 
my  victory;  and  yet  because  I  think  it  unadvisable 
for  me  to  leave  the  camp,  I  remain  like  a  rock  at  my 
post.  Where  is  your  praise?  " 

"  King,"  Rothgar  said  gravely,  "  is  the  truce  going 
to  last  long  enough  to  make  it  worth  while  to  fetch 
those  trinkets  here?" 

His  laughter  vanishing,  the  King  came  to  earth  in 
both  senses  of  the  phrase.  "  Now  I  do  not  know  what 
you  mean  by  that,"  he  said.  "  You  were  with  me  on 
the  island.  You  heard  what  was  said.  You  heard  that 
we  made  peace  together  to  last  the  whole  of  our  lives, 
—  in  truth,  longer;  since  he  who  outlives  is  to  in- 
herit peacefully  after  him  who  dies.  Did  you  not  hear 
that?" 

Rothgar  kicked  a  stone  out  of  his  way  with  im- 
patient emphasis.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  heard  it.  I  heard  also 

206 


WHAT   THE   RED    CLOAK   HID 

how  you  said  that  you  would  rather  have  the  English- 
man's friendship  than  his  kingdom." 

The  eyebrows  Canute  had  drawn  down  into  a 
frown  rose  ironically.  "  There  is  room  in  your  breast 
for  more  sense,  Rothgar,  my  brother,  if  you  think,  be- 
cause I  am  forced  into  one  lie,  that  I  never  speak  the 
truth,"  he  said.  "  We  will  not  talk  of  it  further.  I 
should  like  to  remain  good-humored  to-night,  if  it  were 
possible.  What  are  the  words  you  have  waiting  for 
my  ears?  " 

The  Jotun's  sudden  frown  quite  eclipsed  his  eyes. 
"  It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  remain  good-humored  if 
I  put  my  tongue  to  them.  Oh !  Now  it  becomes  clear 
in  my  mind  what  you  have  sent  your  black-haired  fal- 
con down  the  wind  after,  —  to  carry  your  order  to 
Northampton?  " 

"  Certainly  it  is,"  Canute  assented.  "  When 
the  boy  found  that  I  had  need  of  a  messenger,  he 
begged  it  of  me  as  a  boon  that  he  might  be  the  one 
to  carry  the  good  news  to  my  lady.  I  thought  it 
a  well-mannered  way  to  show  his  thankfulness. 
But  why  is  your  voice  so  bitter  when  you  speak  of 
him?" 

"  Because  I  have  just  found  out  that  he  is  a  fox," 
Rothgar  bellowed.  "  Because  it  has  been  borne  in 
upon  me  that  he  has  played  me  a  foul  trick,  by  which 
I  lost  property  that  was  already  under  my  hands;  lost 
it  forever,  Troll  take  him!  if  it  be  really  true  that  we 
are  to  make  no  more  warfare  upon  the  lands  south  of 
the  Watling  Street." 

207 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  It  is  not  possible !  "  Canute  ejaculated.  "  He 
looks  to  be  as  truthful  as  Balder." 

Rothgar  uttered  his  favorite  grunt.  "  Never  did 
I  hear  that  Loke  had  crooked  eyes  or  a  tusk,  and  black 
hair  grows  on  both  of  them.  I  tell  you,  I  know  it  for 
certain.  I  have  just  been  to  find  the  English  serf  who 
became  my  man  after  Brentford;  and  he  has  told  me 
what  he  says  he  tried  to  tell  the  night  before  we  left 
Ivarsdale,  but  no  one  would  listen  to  him  without 
pounding  him,  —  that  the  servant-maid,  who  informed 
him  concerning  the  provision  house,  spoke  also  of  a 
Danish  page  her  lord  had,  whom  he  treated  with  such 
great  love  that  it  was  commonly  said  he  was  be- 
witched. And  before  that,  when  the  brat  was  telling 
you  how  the  Englishman  had  saved  him  from  Nor- 
man's sword,  it  occurred  to  me  that  he  talked  more  as 
a  woman  talks  of  her  lover  than  as  a  man  speaks  of 
his  foe.  I  had  my  mouth  open  to  tax  him  with  it, 
when  you  threw  this  duel  at  me  like  a  rock  and 
knocked  everything  else  out  of  my  head." 

"  May  the  gallows  take  my  body ! "  the  King 
breathed.  And  he  sat  down  upon  a  grassy  hummock 
as  suddenly  as  though  a  rock  had  been  thrown  at  him 
that  knocked  the  legs  from  under  him.  Nor  did  he  get 
up  immediately,  but  remained  gazing  at  the  string  of 
bright  beads  which  English  camp-fires  made  along  the 
opposite  bluff,  his  face  intent  with  pondering. 

Meanwhile  the  son  of  Lodbrok  strode  to  and  fro, 
declaiming  wrathfully.  "  There  is  not  an  honest  bone 
in  the  imp's  body,"  he  wound  up.  "  It  is  certainly  my 

208 


WHAT    THE    RED    CLOAK   HID 

belief  that  he  was  in  league  with  the  Englishman;  and 
his  freedom  was  the  reward  he  got  for  drawing  me  off." 

"  Certainly  you  are  a  very  shrewd  man,"  Canute 
murmured.  But  something  in  his  voice  did  not  stand 
firm;  his  foster-brother  darted  him  a  keen  glance. 
His  suspicions  were  well  founded.  Canute's  face  was 
crimson  with  suppressed  laughter;  he  was  biting  his 
lips  frantically  to  hold  back  his  mirth.  The  temper 
of  the  son  of  Lodbrok  left  him  in  one  inarticulate 
snarl.  Turning  on  his  heel,  with  a  whirlwind  of  flying 
cloak  and  a  thunder  of  clashing  weapons,  he  would 
have  stalked  away  if  the  King  had  not  made  him  the 
most  peremptory  of  gestures. 

"  No,  wait !  Wait,  good  brother !  I  will  show  you 
whether  I  offend  you  intentionally  or  not!  It  is  —  it 
is — the — the  jest — "  Again  he  became  unintelligible. 

Rothgar  stopped,  but  it  was  to  glower  over  his 
folded  arms.  "  Do  you  think  I  do  not  know  as  well 
as  you  that  I  behaved  like  a  fool?  What  I  dislike  is 
that  you  cannot  see  as  plainly  that  your  ward  is  a 
troll.  Because  his  womanish  face  has  caught  your 
fancy,  you  will  neither  blame  him  yourself  nor  allow 
others  to  make  a  fuss  —  " 

"  That  is  where  you  are  wrong,"  the  King  inter- 
rupted, with  as  much  gravity  as  he  could  command. 
<;  When  Fridtjof  Frodesson  comes  again  into  your 
presence,  I  give  you  leave  to  take  whatever  revenge 
you  like.  Lash  him  with  your  tongue  or  your  belt,  as 
you  will;  and  I  promise  that  I  will  not  lift  finger  to 
hinder  you  from  it." 

14  209 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  And  not  hold  it  against  me?  "  Rothgar  demanded 
incredulously. 

"  And  not  hold  it  against  you,"  Canute  agreed. 
Then  he  tilted  his  head  back  to  laugh  openly  in  the 
other's  face.  "  Will  you  wager  a  finger-ring  against 
my  knife  that  your  mind  will  not  change  when  my 
ward  stands  again  before  you?  " 

The  Jotun  smiled  grimly.  "  Is  that  the  expecta- 
tion you  are  stringing  your  bow  with?  It  will  fail  you 
as  surely  as  the  hair  of  Mother's  wife  failed  him.  The 
wager  shall  be  as  you  have  made  it;  and  may  I  lack 
strength  if  I  do  not  deal  with  him  — "  He  paused, 
blinking  like  a  startled  owl,  as  his  royal  foster-brother 
leaped  to  his  feet  and  fronted  him  with  shouts  of 
laughter. 

"  You  dolt,  you !  "  Canute  cried.  "  Do  you  not  see 
it  yet?  Frode's  child  is  a  woman!" 

Rothgar's  jaw  dropped  and  his  bulging  eyes  seemed 
in  danger  of  following.  "  What !  "  he  gasped ;  and  then 
his  voice  rose  to  a  roar.  "  And  the  Englishman  is  her 
lover?  " 

"  You  are  wiser  than  I  expected,"  the  King 
laughed.  "  I  intend  to  call  you  Thrym  after  this, 
for  it  is  unlikely  that  Loke  made  a  greater  fool  of  the 
Giant.  Your  enemies  will  make  derisive  songs  about 
it." 

Stamping  with  rage,  the  Jotun  hammered  his  huge 
fist  upon  a  tree-trunk  until  bark  flew  in  every  direc- 
tion. "  King,  I  will  give  you  every  ring  off  my  hand 
if  you  will  give  me  leave  to  strangle  her ! " 

210 


WHAT   THE   RED    CLOAK   HID 

*'  You  remind  me  that  I  will  take  one  of  your 
rings  now,"  Canute  said,  reaching  out  and  opening 
the  mallet-like  fist  that  he  might  make  his  choice. 
Then,  as  he  fitted  on  his  prize  and  held  it  critically 
to  the  light,  he  added  with  more  sympathy :  "  I  will 
arrange  for  you  a  more  profitable  revenge  than  that. 
I  will  make  a  condition  with  Edmund  that  the  Ethel- 
ing's  odal  shall  not  be  included  in  the  land  which  is 
peace-holy,  and  that  to  ravage  it  shall  not  be  looked 
upon  as  breaking  the  truce.  Then  can  you  betake 
yourself  thither  and  sit  down  with  your  following,  and 
have  no  one  but  yourself  to  blame  if  you  fail  a  second 
time.  Only,"  —  he  thrust  his  knuckles  suddenly  be- 
tween the  other's  ribs,  —  "  only,  before  we  get  serious 
over  it,  do  at  least  give  one  laugh.  Though  she  be 
Ran  herself,  the  maiden  has  played  an  excellent  joke 
upon  you." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  make  out  that  it  is  all 
upon  me,"  Rothgar  said  sulkily.  "  It  did  not  appear 
that  you  got  suspicious  in  any  way,  until  I  told  you 
myself  what  she  talked  like.  You  did  not  have  the 
appearance  of  choking  much  on  her  stories." 

The  King  seemed  all  at  once  to  recover  his 
dignity.  "  I  will  not  deny  that,"  he  said  gravely ;  "  and 
have  I  not  said  that  I  expect  to  be  angry  about  it 
presently?  Certainly  I  do  not  think  she  has  treated 
me  with  much  respect.  That  she  did  not  tell  you,  is 
by  no  means  to  be  wondered  at;  it  might  even  count 
as  something  in  her  favor.  But  me  she  should  have 
given  her  confidence.  That  she  should  dare  to  offer 

211 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

her  King  that  lying  story  about  her  sister's  death  —  " 
His  face  flushed  as  though  he  were  remembering  his 
emotion  on  receiving  that  same  story;  and  his  foster- 
brother's  observation  did  not  tend  to  mollify  him. 

"  And  not  only  to  offer  it,"  the  son  of  Lodbrok 
chuckled,  "  but  to  cram  it  down  his  throat  and  make 
him  swallow  it." 

Canute's  heels  also  began  to  ring  with  ominous 
sharpness  upon  the  frosty  ground.  "  She  must  be  Ran 
herself!  Oh,  you  need  not  be  afraid  that  I  shall  not 
get  overbearing  enough  after  I  am  started!  Had  she 
been  no  more  than  her  father's  daughter,  her  behavior 
would  have  been  sufficiently  bad;  but  that  she  whom 
I  had  made  my  ward  should  withhold  her  confidence 
from  me  to  give  it  to  an  Englishman!  Become  his 
thrallwoman,  by  Odin,  and  betray  my  people  for  his 
sake!  Now,  as  I  am  a  king,  I  will  punish  her  in  a 
way  that  she  will  like  less  than  strangling !  I  tell  you, 
her  luck  is  great  that  she  is  not  here  to-night." 


212 


CHAPTER    XIX 


THE   GIFT    OF   THE    ELVES 

Fair  shall  speak 

And  money  offer, 

Who  would  obtain  a  woman's  love. 

HAVAMAL. 

T  was  the  edge  of  a  forest 
pool,  and  a  slender  dark- 
aired  girl  bending  from  the 
brink  to  see  herself  in  the 
till  water.  Looking,  she 
|smiled, — and  small  wonder! 
Below  her,  framed  in 
green  rushes,  was  the  reflec- 
ion  of  a  high-born  maiden 
dressed  according  to  her 
rank.  Clinging  silk  and  jewelled  girdle  lent  new  grace 
to  her  lithesome  form,  while  the  mossy  green  of  her 
velvet  mantle  brought  out  the  rich  coloring  of  her  face 
as  leaves  bring  out  the  glowing  splendor  of  a  rose.  Gold 
was  in  the  embroidery  that  stiffened  her  trailing  skirts ; 
gold  was  sewn  into  her  gloves,  and  golden  chains  twined 
in  her  lustrous  hair  added  to  the  spirited  poise  of  her 
head  a  touch  of  stateliness.  No  wonder  that  her  mouth 
curved  into  a  smile  as  she  gazed. 

213 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  It  cannot  be  denied  that  I  look  woman-like  now," 
she  murmured.  "  It  is  a  great  boon  for  me  that  he  likes 
my  hair." 

Then  the  water  lost  both  the  reflection  and  the  face 
above  it  as  a  sweet  voice  sounded  up  the  bank,  calling, 
"Randalin!  Randalin!" 

Picking  up  the  branchful  of  scarlet  berries  which 
she  had  dropped,  Frode's  daughter  moved  toward  the 
voice.  "  Are  they  about  to  go,  Dearwyn?  "  she  asked 
the  little  gentlewoman  who  came  toward  her  around  a 
hawthorn  bush,  lifting  her  silken  skirts  daintily. 

Dearwyn  shook  her  head.  "  My  lady  wishes  to  try 
on  you  the  wreath  she  has  made.  She  thinks  your  dark 
locks  will  set  it  off  better  than  our  light  ones." 

"  I  was  on  my  way  thither,"  Randalin  said,  quick- 
ening her  steps. 

With  timid  friendliness  in  her  pretty  face,  Dearwyn 
waited,  and  the  Danish  girl  gave  her  a  shy  smile  when 
at  last  they  stood  side  by  side ;  but  their  acquaintance- 
ship did  not  appear  to  have  reached  the  point  of  conver- 
sation, for  they  walked  back  in  silence  to  the  spot  where 
the  Lady  Elfgiva's  train  had  halted  on  its  journey  for  a 
noonday  meal  and  rest. 

Along  the  bank  of  a  pebbly  stream,  between  pickets 
of  mounted  guards,  the  troop  of  holiday-folk  was  strung 
in  scattered  groups.  Yonder,  a  body  of  the  King's 
huntsmen  struggled  with  braces  of  leashed  hounds. 
Here  were  gathered  together  the  falconers  bearing  the 
King's  birds.  Nearer,  a  band  of  grooms  led  the  King's 
blooded  horses  to  the  water.  And  nearer  yet,  where 

214 


THE    GIFT    OF    THE    ELVES 

the  sun  lay  warm  on  a  leafy  glade,  the  King's  beautiful 
"  Danish  wife  "  took  her  nooning  amid  her  following  of 
maids  and  of  pages,  of  ribboned  wenches  and  baggage- 
laden  slaves. 

As  her  glance  fell  upon  this  last  picture,  Randalin 
drew  a  quick  breath  of  admiration. 

While  they  waited  for  the  bondwomen  to  restore  to 
the  hampers  the  crystal  goblets  and  gold-fringed  nap- 
kins that  even  in  the  wood  wastes  must  minister  to  such 
delicate  lips,  one  merry  little  lady  was  launching  fleets 
of  beech-nut  rinds  down  the  stream;  another,  armed 
with  a  rush-spear,  was  making  bold  attack  on  the  slum- 
bers of  some  woodland  creature  which  she  had  spied  out 
basking  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  stump ;  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  open,  the  Lady  Elfgiva  was  amusing  herself  with 
the  treasures  of  red  and  gold  leaves  which  silk-clad 
pages  were  bringing  from  the  thicket. 

Gazing  at  her,  Randalin's  admiration  mounted  to 
wistfulness.  "  Were  I  like  that,  I  should  be  sure  of  his 
feeling  toward  me,"  she  sighed. 

Certainly,  as  she  looked  to-day  sitting  under  the 
towering  trees,  it  was  easy  to  understand  why  the 
King's  wife  had  been  named  "  the  gift  of  the  elves." 
Every  lovely  thing  in  Nature  had  been  robbed  to  make 
her,  and  only  fairy  fingers  could  have  woven  the  sun's 
gold  into  such  tresses,  or  made  such  eyes  from  a  scrap 
of  June  sky  and  a  spark  of  opal  fire.  From  the  crown 
of  her  jewelled  hair  to  the  toe  of  her  little  red  shoe, 
there  was  not  one  line  misplaced,  one  curve  forgotten, 
while  her  motions  were  as  graceful  as  blowing  willows. 

"5 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

When  the  pair  came  toward  her  over  the  carpet  of 
leather-hued  leaves,  she  put  out  a  white  hand  in  beck- 
oning. "  Come  here,  my  Valkyria,  and  let  me  try  if  I 
can  make  you  look  still  more  like  a  gay  bird  from  over 
the  East  Sea." 

"  You  have  made  me  look  a  very  splendid  bird, 
lady,"  Randalin  said  gratefully,  as  she  knelt  to  receive 
the  woodland  crown. 

Elfgiva  patted  the  brown  cheeks  in  acknowledg- 
ment, and  also  in  delight  at  the  effect  of  her  handiwork. 
"  You  are  an  honor  to  my  art.  Do  you  know  that  the 
night  before  you  came  to  me  I  dreamed  I  held  a  burning 
candle  in  my  hand,  and  that  is  known  by  everybody  to 
be  a  sign  of  good.  A  hundred  plans  are  in  my  mind 
against  the  time  that  this  peace  shall  be  over,  and  we 
are  obliged  to  return  to  that  loathful  house  where  we 
suffer  so  much  with  dulness  that  the  quarrels  of  my 
little  brats  are  the  only  excitement  we  have." 

Still  kneeling  for  the  white  fingers  to  pat  and  pull 
at  her  head-dress,  Randalin  looked  up  wonderingly.  "  Is 
it  your  belief  that  King  Canute  will  not  carry  out  his 
intention,  lady,  that  you  say  '  when  the  peace  is  over'? 
I  know  for  certain  that  it  is  expected  to  last  forever." 

"  Forever?  "  The  lady's  voice  was  an  echo  of  sweet 
mockery.  "  Take  half  a  kingdom  when  a  whole  lies 
almost  within  his  reach?  Now  I  will  not  deny  that  the 
King  is  sometimes  boyish  of  mood,  but  rarely  that 
foolish."  She  seemed  to  toss  the  idea  from  her  with  the 
leaves  she  shook  from  her  robe  as  she  rose  and  moved 
back  a  step  to  see  the  wreath  from  a  new  point.  "  Turn 

216 


THE    GIFT    OF   THE    ELVES 

your  head  this  way,  child.  Yes,  there  is  still  one  thing 
wanting  on  this  side ;  berries  if  I  have  them,  or  grasses 
if  I  have  not,  —  here  are  more  berries !  Oh,  yes,  I  de- 
clare that  I  expect  to  be  very  merry  through  your 
spirits!  You  shall  have  the  rule  over  my  pages  and 
devise  games  and  junketings  without  end." 

Humming  gayly,  she  began  to  weave  in  the  bright 
berries;  and  it  struck  Randalin  that  here  was  a  good 
opportunity  to  make  the  plea  she  had  in  her  mind.  She 
said  gravely,  "  I  shall  be  thankful  if  you  are  able  to 
manage  it,  lady,  so  that  I  may  go  back  with  you." 

Pausing  in  her  work,  Elfgiva  looked  down  in  sur- 
prise. "  Now  what  should  prevent?  "  she  asked. 

The  girl  colored  a  little  as  she  answered :  "  It  was 
in  the  King's  mind  once,  lady,  that  a  good  way  to  dis- 
pose of  Randalin,  Frode's  daughter,  would  be  to  marry 
her  to  the  son  of  Lodbrok.  If  he  should  still  keep  that 
opinion  —  I  would  prefer  to  die !  "  she  ended  abruptly. 

But  the  King's  wife  laughed  her  rippling  laughter 
that  had  in  it  all  the  music  of  falling  waters.  "  Shed 
no  tears  over  that,  ladybird!  Would  I  be  apt  to  let 
such  an  odious  bear  as  Rothgar  Lodbroksson  rob  me  of 
my  newest  plaything?  Whence  to  my  dulness  a  pas- 
time but  for  your  help?  Though  he  were  the  King's 
blood-brother,  he  should  tell  for  naught.  You  do  not 
guess  half  the  entertainment  your  wild  ways  will  be  to 
me.  I  expect  it  will  be  more  pleasant  for  me  to  have 
you  than  that  Norman  ape  which  Canute  sent  me  at  the 
beginning  of  the  summer,  —  which  is  dead  now,  unfor- 
tunately, because  Harald  would  insist  upon  shooting 

217 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

his  arrows  into  it.  There!  Now  my  work  could  not 
be  improved  upon."  Again  she  moved  back,  her  beauti- 
ful head  tilted  in  birdlike  examination.  Randalin  arose 
slowly  and  stood  before  her  with  widening  eyes. 

But  it  was  not  long  that  the  Lady  of  Northampton 
had  for  her  or  for  the  wreath.  Now  her  attention  was 
attracted  to  the  farthest  group  of  guards  and  huntsmen, 
whose  motions  and  shouting  seemed  to  indicate  some 
unusual  commotion.  Bending,  she  peered  curiously 
under  the  branches.  "  I  wonder  if  it  has  happened  that 
the  King  has  sent  someone  to  meet  us  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  see  a  gleam  of  scarlet,  lady,"  the  maiden  of  the 
riverbank  came  to  tell  her  eagerly. 

But  even  as  Elfgiva  was  turning  to  despatch  a  page 
for  news,  the  throng  of  moving  figures  parted,  and  from 
it  two  horsemen  emerged  and  rode  toward  them.  One 
was  the  mighty  son  of  Lodbrok,  clad  in  the  scarlet 
mantle  and  gilded  mail  of  the  King's  guard.  The  other, 
who  wore  no  armor  at  all,  only  feasting-clothes  of  purple 
velvet,  was  the  King  himself. 

The  whole  troop  of  butterfly  pages  rushed  forward 
to  take  possession  of  the  horses ;  the  little  gentlewomen 
made  a  fluttering  group  behind  their  mistress;  and 
Elfgiva,  laughing  in  sweetest  mockery,  swept  back  her 
rosy  robes  in  a  lowly  reverence. 

"  Hail,  lord  of  half  a  kingdom  but  of  the  whole  of 
my  heart ! "  she  greeted  him. 

Canute  seemed  to  drink  in  her  fairness  like  wine; 
his  face  was  boyish  in  its  radiance  as  he  leaped  from 
his  horse  before  her.  "  What !  The  first  word  a  gibe?  " 

218 


THE    GIFT    OF    THE    ELVES 

he  cried,  then  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  stilled  her 
silvery  laughter  with  his  lips. 

It  was  so  charming  a  picture  that  Randalin  smiled 
in  sympathy,  where  she  stood  a  little  way  behind  the 
young  wife,  awaiting  the  moment  when  the  King  should 
have  leisure  to  discover  her.  Not  the  faintest  doubt  of 
his  friendliness  was  in  her  mind.  She  was  still  smiling, 
when  at  last  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  her  over 
Elfgiva's  shoulder. 

Then  alas,  the  smile  died,  murdered,  on  her  lips. 

Turning,  Canute  beckoned  to  the  son  of  Lodbrok, 
who  was  enduring  the  scene  with  the  same  stolid  resig- 
nation which  he  displayed  toward  his  chief's  other 
follies.  "  Foster-brother,  how  comes  it  that  you  do  not 
follow  my  example  and  embrace  the  bride  that  I  have 
given  you?  " 

As  ice  breaks  and  reveals  sullen  waters  underneath, 
so  stolidity  broke  in  Rothgar's  face.  With  a  harsh 
laugh,  he  strode  forward. 

Perhaps  it  was  to  follow  the  King's  suggestion, 
perhaps  it  was  only  to  vent  his  reproaches;  but  Ran- 
dalin did  not  wait  to  see.  Before  she  knew  how  she 
got  there,  she  was  at  Elfgiva's  side,  clutching  at  her 
mantle. 

"  Lady !     You  promised  me  —  "  she  cried. 

And  for  all  her  chiming  laughter,  Elfgiva's  silken 
arm  was  stretched  out  like  a  bar.  "  No  further,  good 
Giant !  "  she  said  gayly.  "  The  King  gave  what  was  not 
his,  for  this  toy  has  become  mine."  She  turned  to 
Canute  with  a  little  play  of  smiling  pouts,  very  bewitch- 

219 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

ing  on  such  lips.  "  Fie,  my  lord !  Be  pleased  to  call 
your  wolves  off  my  lambs." 

Plainly,  Canute's  frown  was  unable  to  withstand 
such  witcheries.  Despite  himself  he  laughed,  and  his 
voice  was  more  persuasive  than  commanding.  "  Now 
he  will  not  rob  you  of  the  girl,  my  Shining  One.  Once 
he  has  wedded  her,  you  may  keep  her  until  you  tire. 
It  was  only  because  —  " 

But  there  he  stopped,  for  all  at  once  a  mist  had 
come  over  the  heavenly  eyes,  and  the  smiling  lips  had 
drawn  themselves  into  a  trembling  bunch.  The  sweet 
voice  too  was  subtly  tremulous. 

"  It  is  because  you  are  to  a  greater  degree  anxious 
to  please  him  than  me,  though  it  is  a  whole  year 
that  I  have  pined  away,  day  and  night,  in  the  utmost 
loneliness.  Wel-a-way!  What!  Why  have  you 
troubled  to  send  for  me,  if  you  hold  my  happiness  so 
lightly  that  you  will  not  comply  with  me  in  so  small 
a  matter? "  Bridling  softly,  she  was  turning  away, 
when  the  young  King  threw  up  his  hands  in  good- 
humored  surrender. 

"To  this  I  will  quickly  reply  that  my  shield  does 
not  secure  me  against  tears!  If  it  is  not  to  your  wish 
we  will  not  speak  of  it.  Give  back,  foster-brother,  and 
choose  two  of  the  others  to  be  your  drinking-compan- 
ions.  Look  up,  my  fair  one,  and  admit  that  I  am  the 
most  obedient  of  your  thralls.  Never,  on  former  days  or 
since,  have  I  so  much  as  kicked  one  of  your  little  yelp- 
ing dogs,  though  I  hate  them  as  Stark  Otter  hated 
bells." 

220 


THE    GIFT    OF    THE    ELVES 

Sunshine  through  the  mist,  Elfgiva  laughed.  "  Nay, 
but  you  have  them  drowned  when  I  am  not  looking," 
she  retorted. 

He  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  deny  it;  indeed  he 
laughed  as  though  the  accusation  was  especially  apt. 
"  Have  I  ever  wounded  you  more  deeply  than  a  trinket 
would  cure  ?  "  he  demanded. 

And  behold,  she  had  already  forgotten  the  matter, 
to  catch  at  the  huge  arm-ring  which  was  slipping  up 
and  down  his  sleeve,  so  loose  a  fit  was  it.  "  What 
Grendel's  neck  did  you  take  it  from!  If  it  had  but 
an  opening,  I  could  use  it  for  a  belt." 

Smiling,  the  King  looked  down  on  his  monster 
bracelet.  "  That,"  he  said,  "  does  not  altogether  do  me 
credit,  for  it  shows  the  difference  in  girth  between 
me  and  Edmund  Ironside.  When  we  set  the  peace 
between  us,  we  exchanged  ornaments  and  weapons. 
Think  if  we  had  followed  the  custom  in  every  respect 
and  exchanged  garments  likewise !  " 

Elf-fires  were  in  Elfgiva's  blue  eyes  when  she  raised 
them  to  his.  "  Rule  your  words  so  that  no  one  else 
hears  you  say  that,  bright  Lord  of  the  Danes,"  she  mur- 
mured, "  lest  they  think  you  mean  by  it  that  the  English 
crown  would  fit  you  as  loosely,  and  forget  that  you  are 
a  boy  who  will  grow." 

The  King's  mouth  sobered.  "  Nay,  a  man,  who  has 
got  his  growth." 

Her  little  hand  spurned  the  ring  that  the  instant 
before  it  had  caressed.  "  Not  a  man,  but  a  King ! " 
she  reminded  him,  and  drew  herself  up  proudly  be- 

221 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

fore  him,  a  queen  in  beauty,  crowned  with  the  sun's 
gold. 

His  eyes  devoured  her;  his  breath  seemed  to  come 
faster  as  he  looked.  All  at  once  he  caught  her  hands 
and  crushed  them  against  his  lips.  "  Neither  man  nor 
king,"  he  cried,  "  but  the  lover  who  has  adored  you 
since  he  came  to  plunder  but  stayed  to  woo!  Do  you 
know  that  when  I  came  upon  you  to-day,  my  heart  burst 
into  flower  as  a  tree  blooms  in  the  spring-time?  Had 
I  a  harp  in  my  hand,  my  lips  would  blossom  into  song. 
Get  me  one  from  your  minstrels,  and  I  will  sing  to  you 
as  we  ride,  and  we  •will  forget  that  a  day  has  passed 
since  the  time  when  first  we  roved  together  through 
the  Northampton  meadows." 

Forgetful  of  all  the  world  beside,  he  led  her  away 
toward  the  horses. 


222 


CHAPTER    XX 


A    ROYAL   RECKONING 

A  tale  is  always  half  told  if  only  one  man  tells  it. 

GRETTI'S  SAGA. 

ETHER  from  policy  or 
necessity,  the  guest-house 
of  Gloucester  Abbey  was 
surrendered  to  the  royal 
[band  with  open-armed  hos- 
[pitality.  Every  comfort  the 
[place  afforded  was  heaped 
[together  to  soften  the  bare 
rooms  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  the  noble  ladies; 
every  delicacy  the  epicurean  abbot  could  obtain  loaded 
the  table ;  and  what  little  grass  the  frost  had  left  in  the 
cloister  garth  was  sacrificed  to  the  swarm  of  pages  and 
henchmen,  minstrels  and  tumblers.  Now  a  tournament 
of  games  in  the  riverside  meadows  took  up  the  day,  now 
a  pageant  up  the  river  itself;  again,  a  ride  with  the 
hawks  or  a  run  after  the  hounds,  —  and  the  nights  were 
one  long  revel.  Time  slipped  by  like  a  song  off  the  lips 
of  a  harper. 

To-day  it  was  to  chase  a  boar  over  the  wooded  hills 
that  the  holiday  troop  was  awake  and  stirring  at  sun- 

223 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

rise.  The  silvery  bell-notes  that  called  the  monks  to 
morning  prayer  were  jostled  in  mid-air  by  the  blare  of 
hunters'  horns.  Stamping  iron-shod  hoofs  and  the 
baying  of  deep-voiced  hounds  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
cloister,  and  threescore  merry  voices  laughed  out  of 
memory  the  Benedictine  vow  of  silence. 

Voices  and  horns  made  a  joyous  uproar  when  the 
King  led  forth  his  lady  and  her  fair  following ;  and  he 
smiled  with  pleasure  at  the  welcome  and  the  pictur- 
esque beauty  of  the  gay  throng  between  the  gray  old 
walls. 

"Now  how  could  I  come  upon  a  better  sight  if 
I  were  the  King  of  a  hundred  islands?  "  he  demanded 
of  Elfgiva. 

But  he  did  not  wait  for  her  answer;  instead,  he 
stepped  forward  as  though  to  avoid  it  and  put  a  ques- 
tion to  one  of  his  huntsmen.  And  his  wife  turned  and 
spoke  sharply  to  the  blond  maiden  behind  her,  whose 
more  than  usual  fairness  had  given  her  the  name  of  Can- 
dida, or  "the  white  one." 

"Where  is  Randalin?  I  sent  the  garments  to  her 
an  hour  ago.  She  stands  in  need  of  a  taste  of  Teboen's 
rod  to  teach  her  promptness." 

Little  Dearwyn,  watching  the  doorway  with  flutter- 
ing color,  cried  out  eagerly,  "  Here  she  is,  lady ! " 

There  she  was,  in  truth,  standing  on  the  threshold 
with  crimson  cheeks  and  flashing  eyes.  At  the  sight 
of  her  every  huntsman  uttered  a  whistle  of  amazement, 
then  settled  into  an  admiring  stare ;  and  Canute,  glanc- 
ing over  his  shoulder,  laughed  outright. 

224 


A   ROYAL    RECKONING 

"  What !  "  he  said.  "  Have  you  tired  of  woman's 
clothes  already?  " 

For,  once  more,  Frode's  daughter  was  attired  in  a 
man's  short  tunic  and  long  silken  hose.  It  was  a  suit 
much  richer  than  the  old  one,  since  silver  embroidery 
banded  the  blue,  and  precious  furs  lined  the  cloak;  but 
that  fact  was  evidently  of  little  comfort  to  her,  as  her 
eyes  were  full  of  angry  tears,  and  she  deigned  the  King 
no  answer  whatever. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  pay  dearly  for  your  amusement, 
lady,"  she  said  bitterly. 

Elfgiva  chimed  her  bell-like  laughter.  "  I  will  not 
deny  that  you  pay  liberally  for  my  trouble,  sweet.  Does 
it  not  add  spice  to  her  stories,  maidens,  to  see  her  hab- 
ited thus?  She  looks  like  one  of  the  fairy  lords  Teboen 
is  wont  to  sing  of." 

"  She  holds  her  head  like  Emma  of  Normandy," 
the  King  said  absently. 

In  wide-eyed  surprise,  Elfgiva  looked  up  at  him. 
"  Ethelred's  widow?  Never  did  I  hear  that  you  had 
seen  her!  Why  has  this  been  passed  over  in  silence? 
I  have  abundance  of  questions  to  ask  about  her  gar- 
ments and  her  appearance.  When  saw  you  her?  And 
where?" 

Canute  stirred  uneasily.  "  It  is  not  worth  a  hear- 
ing. I  spoke  but  a  few  words  with  her,  about  ransoms, 
the  time  that  I  sat  before  London.  And  I  remember  only 
that  her  bearing  was  noble  and  her  countenance  most 
handsome,  such  as  I  had  never  seen  before,  nor  did  I 
think  that  there  could  be  any  woman  so  queenlike." 

15  225 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Because  he  did  not  choose  to  say  more,  or  because  some 
wrinkle  in  Elfgiva's  satin  brow  warned  him  off,  he 
turned  hastily  to  another  topic.  "  Foolishly  do  we 
linger,  when  we  have  none  too  much  time  to  get  to 
covert.  Do  you  still  want  your  way  about  accompany- 
ing us?  I  have  warned  you  that  a  boar  hunt  is  little 
like  hawking;  nor  do  Northmen  stand  in  one  spot  and 
wait  for  game  to  come  to  them." 

"  I  hold  to  it  with  both  hands,"  the  lady  returned 
with  a  gayety  which  had  in  it  a  touch  of  defiance.  "  Nor 
will  I  consent  to  do  anything  except  that  alone.  We 
will  partake  in  the  excitement  of  your  sport,  and  each 
of  these  brave  heroes  of  yours  shall  answer  for  the 
safety  of  one  of  us."  A  gesture  of  her  hand  included 
Thorkel  the  Tall,  the  two  Northern  jarls,  and  the  King's 
foster-brother. 

"  And  is  it  your  belief  that  a  man  can  at  the  same 
time  chase  a  boar  and  talk  fine  words  to  a  woman?  " 
Canute  demanded  between  amusement  and  impatience. 
"  Call  it  a  ride,  if  you  will,  but  leave  the  boar  out  for 
reason's  sake,  as  he  would  leave  us  out  ere  we  were 
so  much  as  on  his  track." 

She  gave  him  a  sidelong  glimpse  of  her  wonderful 
eyes,  and  drooped  her  head  like  a  lily  grown  heavy 
on  its  stem.  "  Would  that  be  so  great  a  misfortune 
then?  "  she  murmured.  "  Do  you  think  it  unpleasant 
to  be  passing  your  time  at  my  side  ?  " 

Smiling,  he  watched  the  play  of  her  long  silken 
lashes,  yet  shook  his  head.  "  Nay,  when  I  hunt,  I 
hunt,"  he  said.  "  I  would  have  idled  in  your  bower  if 

226 


A    ROYAL    RECKONING 

you  had  chosen  it,  but  you  urged  me  to  this,  and  now 
if  it  happens  that  you  cannot  keep  up,  you  must  bear 
your  deed." 

As  one  casts  aside  an  ill-fitting  glove,  she  threw 
aside  her  pouts,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  flash  of  dainty 
mimicry.  "  Hear  the  fiery  Thor !  Take  notice  that  I 
shall  bear  all  down  before  me  like  a  man  mowing  ripe 
corn.  You  cannot  guess  how  much  warlikeness  I  have 
caught  from  my  Valkyria."  She  glanced  back  where 
the  girl  in  the  short  tunic  stood  drawing  on  her  gloves, 
a  picture  of  stormy  beauty. 

Amused,  the  King's  eyes  followed  hers,  then 
lighted  with  sudden  purpose.  "  As  you  will,"  he 
laughed,  "  and  I  will  give  your  Valkyria  a  steed  that 
shall  match  her  appearance."  Advancing  again,  he 
spoke  to  a  groom;  and  the  signal  set  the  whole  party 
in  motion. 

Randalin  heard  his  words,  but  at  the  moment  she 
was  too  deep  in  angry  embarrassment  to  heed  them. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  every  eye  in  the  throng  was 
fastened  upon  her  as  she  walked  forward,  that  every 
mouth  buzzed  comment  behind  her.  It  was  not  until 
she  was  in  the  saddle  that  his  intention  reached  her 
understanding. 

The  powerful  black  charger,  which  a  groom  led 
toward  her,  had  been  pawing  and  arching  his  glossy 
neck  impatiently  since  the  first  horn  set  his  blood-drops 
dancing;  at  the  touch  of  her  foot  upon  the  stirrup,  he 
snorted  satisfaction  through  his  wide-flaring  nostrils 
and  would  have  leaped  forward  like  a  stone  from  a 

227 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

sling,  if  the  man  had  not  hung  himself  upon  the  bit. 
The  girl  awoke  to  surprise  as  she  barely  managed  to 
reach  her  seat  by  the  most  agile  of  springs. 

"  This  is  not  the  horse  I  ride,  Dudda !  He  must 
belong  to  one  of  the  nobles." 

"  He  is  —  the  horse  —  that  King  Canute  said  — 
you  should  take,"  the  man  panted,  as  he  struggled  to 
keep  his  footing.  "  He  said  to  fetch  —  Praise  Odin !  " 
For  at  that  moment,  Canute's  silver  horn  gave  the 
signal,  and  he  was  free  to  leap  aside. 

Randalin's  trained  hand  upon  the  reins  was  as  firm 
as  it  was  light,  and  her  trained  eye  was  keenly  alert 
to  every  motion  of  the  black  ears,  but  in  her  brain  all 
was  whirling  confusion,  —  and  no  longer  any  thought 
of  her  tunic.  What  was  the  King's  purpose  in  making 
this  change?  Certainly  he  was  in  no  mood  to  honor 
her,  —  what  could  he  have  in  his  mind?  While  her 
tongue  answered  mechanically  to  Ulf  Jarl's  observa- 
tions concerning  the  weather  and  the  fair  farmland 
they  were  riding  through,  her  eyes  were  furtively  ex- 
amining her  companions'  steeds.  No  fiery  ambitions 
disturbed  their  easy  gait,  spirited  though  they  were. 
Indeed,  Elfgiva,  looking  back  at  this  moment,  singled 
her  out  with  a  rippling  laugh. 

"  By  the  blessed  Ethelberga,  you  have  a  horse  in 
all  respects  befitting  your  spirit,  my  shield-maiden!  I 
hope  it  is  not  the  King's  intention  to  punish  you  by 
frightening  you." 

Could  it  be  possible  that  he  should  stoop  to  so  un- 
worthy an  action,  the  girl  asked  herself?  And  yet  it 

228 


A    ROYAL    RECKONING 

was  as  understandable  as  any  of  his  behavior  during  the 
last  fortnight.  Suddenly  it  seemed  that  a  hand  had 
awakened  the  Viking  blood  which  slumbered  in  her 
veins;  it  fired  her  cheeks  and  flashed  from  under  her 
lashes.  She  answered  clearly,  "  I  hope  it  is  not,  lady, 

—  for  he  would  experience  disappointment." 

From  all  sides  laughter  went  up;  but  there  was 
no  time  for  more,  for  now  a  hunter  —  one  of  the  men 
who  had  brought  news  of  the  lair  —  galloped  up,  dust- 
choked  and  breathless. 

"  He  has  broken  cover,  King !  "  he  gasped.  "  He  is 
moving  windward  —  loose  the  hounds  —  or  —  you  will 

—  miss  him  —  " 

Canute's  horn  was  at  his  lips  before  the  last  broken 
phrase  was  out.  "  Forward !  "  he  shouted  with  a  blast. 
"  The  hounds,  and  forward !  "  A  whirlwind  seemed 
to  strike  the  ambling  train  and  sweep  them  over  the 
ground  like  autumn  leaves. 

Over  stubble  fields  and  leaf-carpeted  lanes,  with 
half  frightened  smiles  upon  their  parted  lips,  Elfgiva 
and  her  fair  ones  kept  up  bravely ;  then  across  a  stream 
into  a  thicket,  over  hollows  and  fallen  logs,  under  low- 
hanging  boughs,  through  brush  and  brier  and  bramble, 

—  leaping,  dodging,  tearing,  crashing.     Leonorine  the 
Timid  uttered  a  cry,  as  her  horse  slid  down  a  bank  with 
his  feet  bunched  under  him;    and  the  Lady  Elfgiva 
dropped  her  reins  to  press  her  hand  where  a  thorn  had 
scratched  her  cheek. 

"  Stop !  "  she  commanded.  "  Stop !  We  will  turn 
back  and  wait  —  until  he  strikes  across  a  field." 

229 


THE   WARD    OF   KING   CANUTE 

As  well  have  tried  to  call  off  the  hounds  after  they 
had  caught  the  scent  and  doubled  themselves  over  the 
trail !  It  is  unlikely  that  any  man  so  much  as  heard  her. 
For  one  flash  of  time  she  beheld  them  seesawing  in  the 
air  before  her,  as  their  horses  rose  over  the  brush ;  then 
there  was  nothing  but  the  distant  crashing  of  dry  timber 
and  the  echo  of  Canute's  jubilant  horn. 

"  And  the  Valkyria  has  gone  also !  "  the  lady  ejacu- 
lated, when  her  injured  gaze  was  able  to  come  suffi- 
ciently close  to  earth. 

And  so  the  Valkyria  had,  though  with  as  little  of 
free  will  as  on  that  day  when  her  runaway  steed 
carried  her  out  of  the  press  of  the  fleeing  army.  At 
the  first  call  of  the  horn,  Black  Ymer  had  taken  the 
bronze  bit  between  his  teeth  and  followed,  and  his 
rider's  one  concern  in  life  became  —  not  the  guiding  of 
him  —  but  the  staying  on.  Before  they  left  the  first 
thicket  her  mantle  was  torn  from  her  shoulders,  and 
she  was  lying  along  his  neck,  now  on  this  side,  now  on 
that,  to  escape  the  whipping  twigs  that  lashed  at  her, 
threatening  to  cut  out  her  eyes.  From  the  thicket  out 
into  the  open,  where  it  seemed  as  if  the  wind  that 
rushed  against  her  would  blow  not  only  the  clothes 
from  her  body  but  the  flesh  from  her  bones ! 

Far  ahead,  where  the  little  valley  ended  and  the 
wood  began  again,  she  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the 
boar  as  it  burst  covert  with  the  yelping  pack  at  its  heels 
and  was  for  one  instant  revealed,  snarling,  bare-tusked, 
and  flecked  with  bloody  foam.  Then  it  dived  again 
under  cover  and  was  gone  in  a  new  direction.  Canute's 

230 


A   ROYAL   RECKONING 

horn  sounded  a  recall,  and  one  by  one  the  hunters 
checked  their  onward  rush  and  wheeled. 

Black  Ymer's  rider  also  tried  to  obey,  but  all  the 
strength  of  her  body  was  not  enough  to  sway  him  by 
a  hair's  breadth.  On  he  shot  into  the  thicket. 

"  He  will  have  enough  sense  to  stop  when  he  finds 
out  that  he  is  alone,"  was  her  despairing  thought. 

But  he  continued  to  forge  ahead  like  a  race  horse, 
—  in  uneven  leaps  as  though  some  sound  from  behind 
were  urging  him  on.  Suddenly,  through  the  roaring  of 
her  ears,  it  broke  upon  her  that  he  was  not  alone,  that 
at  least  one  horse  was  following.  Its  approaching  tread 
was  like  thunder  in  the  stillness.  If  it  could  but  get 
ahead  of  her,  all  would  be  well.  Her  heart  beat  hope- 
fully as  the  jar  sounded  nearer  and  nearer.  When  the 
snorting  nostrils  seemed  at  the  Black  One's  very  flank, 
at  the  risk  of  her  neck  she  turned  her  head. 

Looking,  she  understood  why  a  steed  had  been 
given  her  which  should  carry  her  out  of  Elfgiva's  reach, 
for  the  horseman  who  was  even  now  stretching  his 
gauntleted  hand  toward  her  rein  was  the  King  himself. 
No  one  followed,  and  the  forest  around  them  was  silent 
as  a  vault.  At  last,  he  was  free  to  speak  his  mind. 

Under  the  drag  of  his  hand,  the  horse  came  slowly 
to  a  halt  and  stood  panting  and  trembling  in  the  middle 
of  a  little  dell.  For  a  while,  she  could  do  no  more  than 
cling  to  the  saddle-bow,  sick  with  dizziness. 

Still  holding  her  rein,  her  royal  guardian  sat  re- 
garding her  critically.  "  Now  it  seems  to  me  that  your 
boasting  is  less  than  before,"  he  said.  "  And  you  were 

231 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

mistaken  in  supposing  that  I  would  have  given  this 
animal  to  you  if  I  had  not  known  you  could  ride  him." 
When  she  made  no  reply,  he  shook  the  rein  impatiently. 
"  Is  it  still  the  horse  that  makes  you  heavy  in  your 
breathing?  Or  perhaps  you  scarcely  dare  to  face  my 
justice?  I  warn  you  that  I  shall  not  take  it  well  if  you 
begin  to  weep." 

A  spark  was  drawn  out  of  her  by  that.  With  an 
effort,  she  raised  her  head  and  shot  him  a  glance  from 
bright  angry  eyes.  "  No  such  intention  have  I,  Lord 
King.  Certainly  I  do  not  fear  your  justice.  Why 
should  I?" 

"  Since  I  have  little  time  to  spend  upon  your  freaks, 
I  will  tell  you  why,"  he  said  sternly.  "  Because  you 
have  betrayed  one  of  my  people  for  the  sake  of  an 
Englishman." 

With  surprise,  her  glance  wavered.  "  I  did  not 
know  you  knew  that,"  she  said  slowly.  But,  as  he 
expected  her  to  droop,  she  bristled  instead.  "  Nor  was 
it  to  be  expected,  Lord  King,  that  you  would  be  the  one 
to  blame  me  for  using  craft." 

His  eyes  kindled ;  if  she  had  stopped  there  it  might 
have  gone  hard  with  her,  but  she  spoke  on  swiftly, 
her  head  indignantly  erect.  "  If  Rothgar  Lodbroksson 
thinks  he  should  have  indemnity  because  he  was  too 
stupid  to  see  through  a  trick,  let  him  have  Avalcomb, 
when  you  get  it  back  from  the  English,  and  feel  that 
he  has  got  more  than  he  deserves ;  but  your  anger  —  " 
she  broke  off  abruptly  and  sat  with  her  lips  pressed 
tight  as  though  keeping  back  a  sob.  "  In  the  beginning, 

232 


A    ROYAL    RECKONING 

I  got  great  kindness  at  your  hands,  Lord  King,"  she 
said  at  last,  "  and  your  anger  —  hurts  me !  " 

On  the  point  of  softening,  the  King's  face  hardened, 
and  he  averted  his  head.  "  You  value  my  favor  rather 
late  in  the  day,  Frode's  daughter.  It  would  have  been 
better  if  you  had  shown  honor  to  it  when  you  came  in 
to  me  at  Scoerstan,  by  giving  me  truth  in  return  for 
friendship." 

If  she  had  laughed  as  though  recalling  the  jest  in 
that  scene,  it  is  possible  that  he  would  have  struck  her 
with  his  glove.  It  was  fortunate  that  her  sense  of 
humor  was  no  more  than  a  bubble  on  the  foam  of  her 
high  spirits.  Her  eyes  were  dark  with  earnestness  as 
they  sought  his. 

"  Lord  King,  I  was  hindered  by  necessity.  Your 
camp  —  was  it  a  place  for  women?  And  did  not  your 
own  mouth  tell  me  that  Randalin,  Frode's  daughter, 
should  wed  the  son  of  Lodbrok  if  she  were  alive?  " 

He  struck  his  knee  a  ringing  slap.  "  I  confess  that 
it  is  not  easy  to  be  a  match  for  you !  But  I  can  tell  you 
one  thing  which  you  will  not  be  able  to  explain,  as 
heretofore,  —  and  it  is  a  thing  which  has  made  me 
get  bitterest  against  you.  If  you  had  kept  your  con- 
fidence from  all  it  might  have  passed  for  discreetness, 
but  that  you  should  keep  it  from  me  to  give  it  to  an 
Englishman  —  " 

"  But  I  did  not  give  it  to  the  Englishman,"  she 
interrupted. 

For  an  instant  he  stared  at  her;  directly  after 
he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  "  Now  that  is  the  best 

233 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

thing  that  has  occurred  yet!  Where  you  cannot  crawl 
through,  you  break  through ! "  He  laughed  again,  and 
was  opening  his  mouth  to  repeat  some  of  the  suspicions 
t  he  had  shared  with  Rothgar  when  something  about  her 
stopped  him,  —  whether  it  was  the  way  she  bore  her 
head  or  something  in  her  deep  eyes.  Dropping  his 
derision,  he  spoke  bluntly :  "  What  reason  in  the  world 
could  cause  you  to  behave  thus  if  it  is  not  that  he  is 
your  lover?  " 

The  color  gathered  and  spread  over  her  face  in 
maiden  shame,  until  her  tunic  became  the  crudest  of 
mockeries. 

"  Short  is  the  reason  to  tell,  Lord  King,"  she  said, 
"it  is  because  I  love  him."  As  he  sat  regarding  her, 
she  put  out  her  hand  and  played  with  a  tendril  of  wild 
grapevine  that  hung  from  the  tree  beside  her,  her  eyes 
following  her  fingers.  "  I  do  not  know  why  I  should 
be  ashamed  of  the  state  of  my  feelings.  I  should  not 
be  able  to  stand  alive  before  you  if  he  had  not  been  a 
better  lord  to  me  than  you  are  to  English  captives; 
and  he  is  more  gentle  and  high-minded  than  any  man 
I  ever  heard  sung  of.  Sometimes  I  think  I  should  have 
more  to  be  ashamed  of  if  I  did  not  feel  love  toward 
him."  A  little  defiantly,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his, 
only  to  drop  them  back  to  the  spray.  "  But  he  does 
not  love  me.  He  knows  me  only  as  the  boy  he  was 
kind  to.  I  have  given  him  the  high-seat  in  my  heart, 
but  I  sit  only  within  the  door  of  his." 

The  forest  seemed  very  still  when  she  had  done,  — 
the  only  sound  the  clanking  of  the  bits  as  the  horses 

234 


A    ROYAL    RECKONING    . 

cropped  the  withered  grass.  Then  suddenly  the  King 
gathered  up  his  lines  with  a  jerk. 

"  I  cannot  believe  it,"  he  said  harshly.  "  You  are 
all  alike,  you  women,  with  your  cat-like  purrings  and 
tricksy  eyes  that  surpass  most  other  things  in  deceit. 
I  do  not  deny  both  that  you  know  well  how  to  feign 
and  that  I  would  like  to  believe  you,  but  you  must  prove 
it  first  before  I  do." 

"How  can  I  do  that,  lord?"  she  said  helplessly; 
but  shrank,  the  next  moment,  as  she  saw  that  already 
he  had  a  plan  in  his  mind. 

Moving  his  horse  a  step  nearer,  he  bent  toward 
her  triumphantly.  "  I  will  send  for  the  Englishman, 
in  your  name  —  or  the  name  you  wore  —  and  you 
shall  meet  him  in  my  presence,  and  I  shall  be  able  to 
tell  from  his  manner  whether  or  not  you  have  spoken 
truthfully." 

Send  for  him!  At  the  very  thought  her  face  was 
ecstatic  with  happiness.  Then  she  clasped  her  hands 
in  dismay.  "  But  not  if  I  must  continue  in  these  gar- 
ments, lord!  You  can  decide  over  my  fate,  but  I  will 
never  face  him  again  in  anything  but  woman's  weeds." 

The  King  frowned.  "  Strangely  do  you  speak ; 
as  if  I  did  not  know  what  is  befitting  a  Danish  woman 
that  I  would  allow  one  who  is  noble-born  in  all  her 
kindred  to  be  treated  disgracefully  after  I  had  taken 
her  into  my  wardership !  " 

A  while  longer  he  sat  there,  watching  her  changeful 
face  with  its  lovely  mouth  and  the  eyes  that  some 
trick  of  light  and  shade  had  deepened  to  the  purple  of 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

an  iris  petal's  markings ;  and  the  sight  seemed  to  gentle 
his  mood. 

"  I  should  like  to  reconcile  myself  to  you,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  Since  first  you  came  before  me  and  showed 
by  your  entreaty  that  you  thought  me  something  be- 
sides an  animal,  I  have  felt  friendliness  toward  you. 
And  I  should  like  to  believe  that  some  woman  loves 
some  man  as  you  say  you  love  this  Englishman."  Out 
of  the  very  wishfulness  of  his  voice,  a  terrible  menace 
spoke :  "  I  should  like  it  so  much  that  I  shall  neither 
spare  you  in  word  nor  deed  if  you  have  deceived  me ! " 
Then  once  more  his  manner  softened.  "  Yet  my  mind 
feels  a  kind  of  faith  toward  you.  I  shall  try  you,  to 
make  sure,  but  until  you  have  proved  that  you  are  un- 
worthy of  it,  I  will  not  keep  you  out  of  my  friendship." 
Drawing  off  his  glove,  he  stretched  forth  his  hand. 
"  You  may  find  that  a  man's  harshness  is  little  worse 
than  a  woman's  guile,"  he  said  bitterly. 

Dimly  guessing  what  was  in  his  mind,  she  dared 
not  trust  herself  to  words  but  told  her  gratitude  with 
her  eyes,  as  she  returned  his  clasp.  Then  he  sent  her 
back  by  the  one  semblance  of  a  path  which  ran  through 
the  forest,  and  himself  rode  on  to  his  hunters. 


236 


CHAPTER   XXI 


WITH    THE  JOTUN    AS   CHAMBERLAIN 

All  doorways, 
Before  going  forward, 
Should  be  looked  to  ; 
For  difficult  it  is  to  know 
Where  foes  may  sit 
Within  a  dwelling. 

HAVAMAL. 


more,  Lord  Sebert,  be 
exhorted  to  turn  back,"  old 
[Morcard  spurred  forward  to 
loffer  a  last  remonstrance  as 
ic  city  gates  yawned  before 
Ithem.  "  Even  if  the  mes- 
sage be  genuine,  you  are 
[putting  your  life  in  peril.  If 
Imen  speak  rightly,  Glouces- 
Iter  Town  is  no  better  than 
a  camp  of  carousing  Danes.  Is  it  likely  that  they  care 
enough  about  this  peace  to  stick  at  so  small  a  thing  as 
man-slaying?" 

The  Etheling  replied  without  slackening  his  pace: 
"  I  do  not  think  they  are  liable  to  molest  a  peaceful 
traveller.  I  will  take  care  that  I  upheave  no  strife,  and 
I  will  make  all  my  inquiries  of  the  monks." 

237 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Go  a  little  more  slowly,  lord,  and  consider  the 
other  side  of  it,"  the  old  cniht  entreated.  "  Suppose  the 
message  is  false,  —  the  black  tress  around  it  proves 
nothing.  Suppose  the  son  of  Lodbrok  has  spread  a  net 
for  you  ?  " 

"  Then  should  I  keep  on  my  way  still  more  lustily," 
the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  answered,  "  for  his  making  use 
of  the  boy's  name  to  entice  me  would  show  that  he  had 
discovered  our  friendship,  in  which  case  the  youngling 
would  be  suffering  from  his  anger." 

The  old  man  plucked  violently  at  his  beard  as  the 
walls  loomed  clearer  before  them.  "  Lord,  you  have 
already  gone  through  some  risk  in  leaving  home.  It 
is  by  no  means  impossible  that  Edmund  will  fall  upon 
the  Tower  during  your  absence." 

"  Edmund  is  too  busy  with  big  game  at  Oxford 
to  have  that  trouble  about  such  quarry  as  I,"  the 
young  man  said  lightly,  "  and  the  Gainer  is  not  likely 
to  stir  far  from  Edmund  while  land  is  being  dis- 
tributed." Then,  sobering,  he  gave  the  other  a  grave 
glance  over  his  shoulder.  "  Even  though  the  errand 
for  danger  could  not  be  accomplished,  how  could 
I  do  less  than  undertake  it?  Did  not  the  boy  go 
through  some  risk  for  me  when  he  betrayed  his  own 
countryman  to  get  me  out  of  a  hard  place?  Had  they 
guessed  his  treason,  they  would  have  torn  him  in  pieces. 
I  owe  him  a  debt  which  it  concerns  my  honor  to 
pay.  It  lies  not  on  your  shoulders,  however,  — "  his 
gravity  gave  way  to  his  gay  smile,  — "  if  it  is  more 
pleasant  for  you  not  to  enter  the  city,  you  may  ride 

238 


WITH    THE   JOTUN    AS    CHAMBERLAIN 

back  to  the  hostelry  we  passed,  and  await  me  in  its 
shelter." 

The  old  cniht's  courage  was  too  well  approved  to 
require  any  defence.  Contenting  himself  with  an  indig- 
nant grunt,  he  reined  back  to  his  place  at  the  head  of 
the  dozen  armed  servants  who  formed  the  Etheling's 
safeguard,  and  the  young  lord  galloped  on  between  the 
bare  fields,  humming  absently  under  his  breath. 

"  Poor  bantling !  "  he  was  thinking  compassion- 
ately. "  I  shall  be  right  glad  to  get  sight  of  him  again. 
I  hope  he  will  not  betray  himself  in  his  joy  when  he 
sees  me.  Anything  like  showing  that  one  is  fond  of  him 
is  apt  to  turn  him  a  little  soft." 

None  of  these  undercurrents  was  visible  in  his 
face  however,  when,  having  left  his  escort  in  one  of  the 
outer  courts,  he  stood  at  last  in  the  parlor  of  the  Abbey 
guest-house. 

"  I  am  a  traveller,  reverend  brother,  journeying 
from  London  to  Worcester,"  he  said  with  grave  courtesy 
to  the  gaunt  black-robed  monk  who  admitted  him.  "  And 
my  errand  hither  is  to  ask  refreshment  for  myself  and 
my  men,  as  we  have  been  in  the  saddle  since  cockcrow." 

"  The  brother  whose  duty  it  is  to  attend  upon  trav- 
ellers is  at  this  hour  in  the  Chapter  House,  with  the 
rest  of  the  household,"  the  monk  made  answer.  "  When 
he  comes  forth,  I  will  acquaint  him  with  your  needs. 
Until  then,  bide  here,  and  I  will  bring  you  a  morsel  to 
stay  your  stomach." 

Sebert  smiled  his  satisfaction  as  the  sandals  pat- 
tered away.  He  had  foreseen  this  interval  of  waiting, 

239 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

—  indeed,  he  had  timed  his  arrival  to  gain  it,  —  and  it 
was  his  design  to  put  it  to  good  use.  While  he  swal- 
lowed what  he  wanted  of  the  wafers  and  wine  which 
were  brought  him,  he  took  measure  of  the  reverend 
servitor,  with  the  result  that,  as  he  set  down  the  goblet, 
he  ventured  a  question. 

"  From  the  numbers  and  heaps  of  attendants  I  saw 
in  the  outer  courts,  holy  brother,  it  appears  that  this 
season  of  peace  has  in  no  way  lessened  the  tax  on  your 
generosity.  Is  rumor  right  in  declaring  the  Danish 
King  to  be  one  of  the  guests  of  your  bounty?  " 

Either  it  was  the  agreeable  presence  of  the 
young  noble  which  relaxed  the  Benedictine's  austerity, 
or  else  the  fact  that  Sebert  had  left  half  his  wine 
in  his  cup.  The  holy  man  answered  with  unwonted 
readiness. 

"  Rumor,  which  is  the  mother  of  lies,  has  given 
birth  to  one  truth,  noble  stranger.  The  King  whom  a 
chastening  Providence  has  set  over  the  northern  half 
of  the  Island,  has  been  our  guest  for  the  space  of  four 
weeks, — together  with  the  gold-bought  English  woman 
who  is  known  as  his  '  Danish  wife.' "  The  monk's 
watery  eyes  were  rolled  upward  in  pious  disapproval, 
before  he  turned  them  earthward  with  a  sigh  of  resig- 
nation. "  Nevertheless,  it  is  the  will  of  Heaven,  —  and 
he  is  very  open-handed  with  lands  and  gold  when  his 
meals  please  him."  He  cast  a  thirsty  glance  toward 
the  half-filled  goblet  which  Sebert  was  absently  finger- 
ing. "  If  you  have  eagerness  for  a  sight  of  him,  you 
have  but  to  walk  through  the  galleries  until  you  come 

240 


WITH    THE   JOTUN    AS    CHAMBERLAIN 

to  the  garden  in  which  he  is  fleeting  his  time  with  his 
women." 

"  Now  I  think  I  should  like  to  take  a  look  at  him 
while  I  am  waiting,"  the  Etheling  assented,  rising 
gravely.  "  Should  Edmund  be  the  first  to  pay  the  debt 
of  nature,  which  God  avert!  the  Dane  will  become  my 
King  also.  Is  it  this  door  that  commands  the  cloister?  " 

"  The  door  on  your  left,"  the  monk  corrected ;  and 
shuffled  away  lest  some  envious  chance  should  snatch 
the  cup  from  him  before  his  thirsty  throat  could  close 
on  the  sweet  remnant. 

At  the  moment  that  he  was  making  sure  of  his 
booty  in  the  safe  darkness  of  a  passage,  the  Lord  of 
Ivarsdale  was  pursuing  his  object  along  the  chill  en- 
closure of  the  gallery.  The  November  sunlight  that,  un- 
softened  by  any  filter  of  rich-tinted  glass,  fell  coldly  upon 
the  worn  stone,  showed  the  carrels  beneath  the  windows 
to  be  one  and  all  deserted  by  their  monkish  occupants, 
and  he  strode  along  unhampered  by  curious  eye  or  ear. 

"  After  all  this  luck,"  he  congratulated  himself,  "  it 
will  go  hard  with  me  if  I  do  not  either  stumble  on  the 
youngling  himself,  or  someone  who  can  give  me  news 
of  him." 

He  had  no  more  than  thought  it,  when  the  sound 
reached  him  of  a  door  closing  somewhere  along  the 
next  side  of  the  square,  followed  by  the  clank  of  spurred 
feet  coming  heavily  toward  him.  As  they  drew  nearer, 
the  rattle  of  a  sword  also  became  audible.  Lifting  his 
eyebrows  dubiously,  the  Etheling  grasped  his  own 
weapon  beneath  his  cloak. 

16  241 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

When  the  feet  had  brought  their  owner  around  the 
corner  into  sight,  he  did  not  feel  that  his  motion  had 
been  a  mistaken  one,  for  the  man  who  was  advancing 
was  Rothgar  Lodbroksson.  It  flashed  through  Sebert's 
mind  that  the  old  cniht's  forebodings  had  not  been 
without  cause,  and  that  Ivarsdale  was  in  danger  of 
changing  masters  by  a  process  much  quicker  than  a 
month's  siege.  He  stared  in  amazement  when  the  Dane, 
instead  of  flashing  out  his  blade,  stopped  short  with  a 
burst  of  jeering  laughter. 

"  Here  is  the  Englishman  arrived,  and  he  looks 
small  enough  now !  "  he  cried  in  his  thunderous  voice. 
"  Has  it  happened  that  I  am  to  be  the  bower-thane  who 
is  to  fetch  you  in !  " 

Sebert's  grasp  tightened  around  his  hilt.  Appar- 
ently the  son  of  Lodbrok  was  expecting  him !  Yet  even 
on  a  forlorn  hope,  he  deemed  it  wise  not  to  commit  him- 
self. He  said  with  what  haughtiness  he  could  muster, 
"  What  should  a  plain  traveller  want  with  a  bower- 
thane,  Danishman?  I  stand  in  more  need  of  the  cellarer 
who  is  to  provide  me  with  a  meal." 

Another  jeering  outburst  interrupted  him.  "  Now 
I  say  nothing  against  it  if  you  declare  yourself  looking 
for  sweetmeats!  Well,  I  will  be  the  cellarer,  and  lead 
you  to  them." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  Sebert  said  slowly,  and 
quite  truthfully. 

The  Dane  grinned  at  him.  "  I  mean  that  I  will 
fetch  you  in  to  the  one  who  sent  you  the  summons." 

"  The  one  who  sent  you  the  summons?  "  Certainly 
242 


WITH    THE   JOTUN    AS    CHAMBERLAIN 

that  sounded  as  though  he  were  using  the  words  to 
conceal  a  name.  Neither  the  Etheling's  patience  nor  his 
temper  was  long  enough  to  reach  below  the  knee.  He 
made  a  swift  gesture  of  throwing  aside  all  reserve. 
"  Enough  of  mystery,  Danishman !  If  the  message 
which  I  have  received  was  not  sent  by  Fridtjof 
Frodesson,  it  was  sent  by  you.  Be  honest  enough  to 
admit  it  and  say  plainly  what  your  intention  is  toward 
me." 

"  Fridtjof  Frodesson,"  the  Jotun  mocked,  and  his 
fiery  eyes  probed  the  Englishman  like  knives.  "  Now 
since  honesty  is  to  your  wish,  I  will  go  so  far  as  to 
confess  that  the  word  came  neither  from  Frode's  son 
nor  from  me." 

Sebert's  foot  rang  upon  the  ground.  "  Say  then 
that  the  Devil  sent  it,  and  a  truce  to  this  juggling! 
Since  you  know  that  I  am  the  boy's  friend,  you  under- 
stand that  any  harm  he  has  suffered  is  a  harm  to  me, 
and  that  my  sword  is  equally  ready  to  avenge  it." 

Much  to  his  surprise,  the  Dane  accorded  this  chal- 
lenge no  notice  whatever.  He  stood  studying  the  Lord 
of  Ivarsdale  with  eyes  in  which  malicious  amusement 
was  growing  into  open  mirth.  It  came  out  in  another 
laugh. 

"  Now  it  would  be  more  unlikely  than  the  wonder 
which  has  occurred,  yet  I  begin  to  believe  you!  I  my- 
self will  guide  you  to  your  Fridtjof,  only  for  the  pleasure 
of  watching  your  face.  The  Fates  are  no  such  step- 
mothers after  all ! "  He  turned  in  the  direction  from 
which  he  had  come  and  made  the  other  a  sign.  "  This 

243 


THE   WARD   OF    KING   CANUTE 

way,  —  if  you  dare  to  follow.  I  am  not  afraid  to  go 
first,  so  you  need  give  no  thought  of  the  chances  of  steel 
between  your  ribs." 

The  Etheling  took  his  hand  off  his  weapon  with  a 
twinge  of  shame ;  but  he  was  not  without  misgivings  as 
he  strode  along  at  Rothgar's  heels.  Unless  the  young- 
ling had  made  a  decided  change  for  the  worse,  what  sat- 
isfaction could  the  Jotun  expect  to  get  from  witnessing 
their  meeting?  Before  his  mind,  there  rose  again  the 
tear-stained  boyish  face  which  had  bidden  him  farewell 
that  night  at  the  postern,  and  his  pulses  throbbed  with 
a  fierce  pity. 

"  He  took  himself  from  the  one  person  who  was 
dear  to  him,  poor  little  cub,"  he  murmured.  "  If  they 
have  maimed  him,  I  swear  I  will  tuck  him  under  my 
arm  and  cut  my  way  out  though  there  be  a  wall  of  the 
brutes  around  him." 

His  musings  came  to  an  end,  as  the  man  preceding 
him  stopped  suddenly  where  one  of  the  milky  panes 
broken  from  the  cloister  window  gave  a  view  of  the 
cloister  garden.  With  the  cold  November  sunshine  a 
hum  of  voices  was  coming  in,  now  brightened  by  peals 
of  laughter,  again  blurred  by  the  thud  of  falling  quoits. 
Over  the  Jotun's  shoulder,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  gor- 
geous nobles  and  fair-haired  women  scattered  in  graceful 
groups  about  a  sunny  old  garden,  green  in  the  very  face 
of  winter,  thanks  to  the  protecting  shelter  of  the  gray 
walls. 

Only  a  glimpse,  —  for  even  as  he  looked,  Roth- 
gar  caught  his  cloak  and  pulled  him  ahead.  "  Yonder 

244 


WITH    THE   JOTUN    AS    CHAMBERLAIN 

door  is  a  better  place  to  look  through;  already  it  is 
open,  and  the  shadow  inside  is  thick  enough  to  hide 
us." 

Pricked  as  he  was  by  a  dozen  spurs,  Sebert  offered 
no  resistance.  In  a  moment,  they  stood  just  out  of 
reach  of  the  square  of  light  which  fell  through  the  open 
doorway.  Framed  in  carved  stone,  the  quaint  old  gar- 
den with  its  gravelled  paths,  its  weedless  turfs  and  its 
background  of  ivy-hung  walls,  lay  before  them  like  a 
picture. 

In  the  longest  of  the  oval  spaces,  a  group  of  maidens 
and  warriors  were  gathered  to  watch  a  wonderful  flower- 
faced  woman  play  at  quoits  under  the  instruction  of 
a  noble  tutor.  At  every  one  of  her  graceful  blunders 
her  laughter  rang  out  in  fairy  music,  which  was  sweetly 
echoed  by  her  maids;  but  the  men  appeared  to  see 
nothing  but  her  beauty  as  she  poised  herself  lightly 
before  them  like  some  shining  azure  bird  on  tiptoe  for 
flight.  Sebert  paid  her  the  tribute  of  a  quickly  drawn 
breath,  even  as  he  took  his  eyes  from  her  to  scan  the 
butterfly  pages  who  ran  to  and  fro,  recovering  the  gilded 
rings.  Yellow  hair  and  red  hair  and  brown  hair  curled 
on  their  gaudy  shoulders,  but  no  black.  In  all  the  pic- 
ture there  was  but  one  figure  crowned  with  such  raven 
locks  as  had  distinguished  Fridtjof  the  Bold,  and  that 
figure  belonged  to  a  girl  standing  directly  opposite  by 
the  mossy  curb  of  the  old  well,  which,  guarded  by  a 
circle  of  carefully  tended  trees,  rose  like  an  altar  in  the 
centre  of  the  inclosure.  Four  of  the  red-cloaked  Danish 
nobles  stood  about  her,  —  and  one  of  them  wore  a 

245 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

golden  circlet  upon  the  gold  of  his  hair,  —  but  the 
Etheling's  eyes  passed  them  almost  unheedinglv  to 
dwell  upon  the  black-tressed  maiden. 

Something  about  her,  while  it  was  entirely  strange, 
was  yet  so  absurdly  familiar.  She  was  some  very  high- 
born lady,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that,  for  the  deli- 
cate fabric  of  her  trailing  kirtle  was  flowered  with  gold, 
and  gold  and  coral  were  twined  in  the  dusky  softness 
of  her  hair  and  hung  around  her  neck  in  a  costly  chain, 
which  the  King  was  fingering  idly  as  he  talked  with  her. 
Now  she  looked  up  to  answer  the  jesting  words,  and 
the  man  in  the  passage  saw  her  smile  and  shake  back 
her  clustering  curls  with  a  gesture  so  familiar  ...  so 
familiar  .  .  . 

Rothgar's  gloating  eyes  detected  light  breaking  in 
his  victim's  face,  incredulity,  amazement,  consternation ; 
and  he  began  to  jeer  under  his  breath.  "  A  great  joy 
is  this  that  you  see  your  Fridtjof  again!  Why  do  you 
not  go  in  boldly  and  rescue  him?  Does  he  not  look  to 
be  in  need  of  your  help?"  To  stifle  his  laughter,  he 
muffled  his  head  in  his  cloak  and  leaned,  shaking, 
against  the  wall. 

Flushing  a  deeper  and  deeper  red,  the  Lord  of  Ivars- 
dale  stared  at  the  smiling  maiden.  Just  so,  a  hundred 
times,  she  had  lifted  her  sparkling  face  toward  him,  and 
he  —  fool  that  he  was!  —  where  had  been  his  eyes? 
Perhaps  it  is  not  strange  that  after  the  surprise  had 
faded  from  his  look,  the  first  feeling  to  show  was  bitter- 
est mortification.  Turning,  he  forced  a  laugh  between 
his  teeth. 

246 


WITH   THE  JOTUN   AS    CHAMBERLAIN 

"  I  do  not  deny  you  the  right  to  be  amused.  You 
speak  truly  that  she  needs  no  help  from  me.  I  will 
hinder  you  no  longer." 

Rothgar  leaped  forward  to  bar  the  passage,  and  the 
mantle  that  fell  from  his  face  showed  no  laughter  of 
mouth  or  eyes.  "  I  have  not  as  yet  spoken  harm,  but 
it  is  not  sure  that  I  do  not  mean  it,"  he  said.  "  If 
you  take  it  in  this  manner  to  see  how  you  have  been 
tricked,  you  may  suppose  how  well  I  like  it  to  re- 
member the  lies  she  fed  to  me,  who  would  have  staked 
my  life  upon  her  truthfulness.  It  is  not  allowed  me 
to  take  revenge  on  her  for  her  treachery,  but  I  think 
I  need  not  spare  you,  as  you  got  the  profit  of  her 
falseness." 

The  Etheling's  sword  was  out  while  the  other  was 
still  speaking.  "  By  Saint  Mary,  do  you  imagine  that 
I  am  fearful  of  you?  Never  in  my  life  was  I  more  thirsty 
for  fighting." 

But  Rothgar  pushed  the  blade  aside  with  his  naked 
palm.  "  Not  here,  where  she  could  come  between. 
Besides,  the  King  wants  a  thrust  at  you  first.  Nor  have 
you  yet  greeted  Randalin,  Frode's  daughter."  His 
hand,  which  was  itching  for  a  sword,  began  to  tear  the 
fur  from  his  cloak,  and  his  lips  curved  in  a  grin  that  had 
in  it  little  of  mirth.  "  Certainly  you  would  not  rob  the 
maiden  of  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  one  she  has  taken 
so  much  trouble  for?  "  he  mocked. 

On  the  verge  of  an  angry  retort,  Sebert  paused  to 
regard  him,  a  suspicion  darting  spark-like  through  his 
mind.  Did  the  Jotun's  words  smack  of  jealousy?  It 

247 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

was  true  that  it  needed  not  that  to  explain  their  bitter- 
ness, and  yet —  What  more  natural  than  that  the 
King's  foster-brother  should  love  the  King's  ward?  If 
it  was  so,  it  was  small  wonder  the  girl  had  said  that  he 
would  slay  her  when  he  discovered  her  unfaithfulness. 
Unfaithfulness!  Sebert  started.  Had  she  not  in  that 
very  word  acknowledged  a  bond?  Not  only  did  he 
love  her,  but  she  must  have  returned  his  affections. 
The  spark  of  suspicion  flared  into  a  flame.  That  would 
solve  so  many  riddles.  For  one,  her  presence  in  the 
Danish  camp,  —  for  surely,  as  a  chieftain's  daughter, 
she  would  have  been  sent  on  to  the  care  of  the  Lady 
of  Northampton!  Was  it  not  thoroughly  in  accordance 
with  her  elfish  wildness  to  have  chosen  man's  attire  and 
the  roughness  of  camp-life  in  order  to  remain  near  her 
lover?  Her  lover!  The  young  noble's  lips  curled  as  he 
glanced  at  the  warrior  beside  him,  at  the  coarse  face 
under  the  unkempt  locks,  at  the  huge  body  in  its  trap- 
pings of  stained  gaudiness.  Involuntarily,  he  looked 
again  at  the  group  by  the  well.  She  was  very  winsome 
in  her  smiling,  and  the  graceful  lines  of  her  trailing 
robes,  their  delicacy  and  soft  richness,  threw  about  her 
all  the  glamour  of  rank  and  state.  He  clenched  his  hands 
at  the  thought  of  such  treasures  thrown  down  for  brutal 
feet  to  trample  on;  and  his  heart  grew  hot  with  anger 
against  her,  anger  and  scorn  that  were  almost  loathing, 
that  she  who  looked  so  fine  should  be  so  poor,  so  — 
But  he  did  not  finish  his  thought,  for  on  its  heels  came 
another,  a  recollection  that  stayed  his  anger  and  changed 
his  scorn  to  compunction.  However  dear  Rothgar  might 

248 


WITH    THE   JOTUN    AS    CHAMBERLAIN 

have  been  to  her,  he  could  be  dear  no  longer,  or  she 
would  never  have  betrayed  his  trust  and  dared  his  hate 
to  save  Ivarsdale  Tower  —  and  its  master.  Sebert 
winced  and  put  up  his  hand  to  shut  out  the  vision  as  he 
realized  at  whose  feet  her  heart  lay  now,  like  a  pitiful 
bruised  flower. 

Meanwhile,  the  son  of  Lodbrok  had  been  drawing 
heavily  on  his  scant  stock  of  patience.  Suddenly,  he 
ran  out  completely.  Seizing  the  Etheling  by  the  shoul- 
ders, before  he  could  raise  finger  in  resistance,  he  thrust 
him  through  the  open  doorway  into  the  garden,  a  target 
for  every  startled  glance.  After  which,  he  himself 
stalked  grimly  on  to  await  him  at  the  city  gate. 


249 


CHAPTER    XXII 


HOW   THE   LORD    OF   IVARSDALE   PAID   HIS    DEBT 

To  his  friend 

A  man  should  be  a  friend, 

And  gifts  with  gifts  requite. 

HAVAMAL. 

MOMENT,  it  was  to  Ran- 
dalin,  Frode's  daughter,  as 
if  the  heavens  had  let  fall 
a  star  at  her  feet.  Then  her 
wonder  changed  to  exulta- 
[tion,  as  she  realized  that  it 
was  not  chance  but  because 
f  her  bidding  that  the  man 
she  loved  stood  before  her. 
Only  because  she  had  asked 
it,  he  had  come  through  pitfalls  and  death-traps,  and 
now  faced,  alone,  the  gathered  might  of  his  foes.  Glory- 
ing in  his  deed,  she  stood  shining  sun-like  upon  him 
until  the  red  cloaks  of  the  advancing  warriors  came 
between  like  scarlet  clouds. 

"Who  are  you?"  "  What  is  your  errand?  "  "How 
came  you  here?  "  she  heard  them  demand.  And,  after 
a  pause,  in  disbelieving  chorus,  "  Rothgar  Lodbroks- 
son!"  "Does  that  sound  likely?"  "Where  is  he, 
then?"  "You  are  trying  to  lie  out  of  something  —  " 

250 


HOW  LORD  OF  IVARSDALE  PAID  HIS  DEBT 

"You  are  an  English  spy!"  "Seize  him!"  "Bind 
him!" 

The  scarlet  cloaks  drew  together  into  a  swaying 
mass ;  a  dozen  blades  glittered  in  the  sun.  With  a  gasp, 
she  came  out  of  her  trance  to  catch  at  the  royal  mantle. 

"  Lord  King,  you  promised  to  give  him  safety !  " 

The  seriousness  which  had  darkened  Canute's  face 
at  the  intrusion  vanished  off  it  as  breath-mist  off  a 
mirror.  "  Is  it  only  your  Englishman?  "  he  asked,  be- 
tween a  laugh  and  a  frown. 

She  grudged  the  time  the  words  took.  "  Yes,  yes ! 
Pray  be  as  quick  as  you  can !  " 

He  did  not  seem  bitten  by  her  haste,  but  he  took 
a  step  forward,  clanging  his  gold-bound  scabbard 
against  the  stone  well-curbing  to  make  himself  heard. 
"  Unhand  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,  my  chiefs,"  he  ordered. 
As  they  sent  him  incredulous  glances  over  their  shoul- 
ders, he  further  explained  his  will  by  a  gesture ;  and  they 
fell  away,  murmuring,  the  swords  gliding  like  bright 
serpents  back  to  their  holes.  Then  he  made  another 
sign,  this  time  to  the  stranger.  "  We  will  accept  your 
greeting  now,  Englishman,  even  though  you  have  been 
hindered  in  the  giving  of  it,"  he  said  politely. 

Standing  there,  watching  the  young  noble  advance, 
it  seemed  to  Randalin  that  there  was  not  room  between 
her  heart-beats  for  her  breathing.  How  soon  would 
he  look  up  and  know  her?  How  would  his  face  change 
when  he  did?  His  color  now  was  a  match  for  the  war- 
riors' cloaks,  and  there  was  none  of  his  usual  ease  in  his 
manner  when  at  last  he  bowed  before  the  King.  Pres- 

251 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

ently  it  occurred  to  her  to  suspect  that  he  had  already 
recognized  her,  —  perhaps  from  the  doorway,  —  and  in 
her  rush  of  relief  at  the  idea  of  the  shock  being  over, 
she  found  even  an  impulse  of  playfulness.  Borrowing 
one  of  Elfgiva's  graces,  she  swept  back  her  rustling 
draperies  in  a  ceremonious  courtesy  before  him. 

Again  he  bent  in  his  bow  of  stiff  embarrassment; 
but  he  did  not  meet  her  glance  even  then,  returning  his 
gaze,  soldier-like,  to  the  King.  Suppose  he  were  going 
to  treat  her  with  the  haughtiness  she  had  seen  him  show 
Hildelitha  or  the  old  monk  when  they  had  displeased 
him !  At  the  mere  thought  of  it,  she  shrank  and  dropped 
her  eyes  to  the  coral  chain  that  she  was  twining  between 
her  fingers. 

The  awkwardness  of  the  pause  seemed  to  afford 
Canute  a  kind  of  mischievous  amusement,  for  all  the 
courtesy  in  which  he  veiled  it.  His  voice  was  almost 
too  cheerful  as  he  addressed  the  Etheling.  "  Now  as 
always  it  can  be  told  about  my  men  that  they  stretch 
out  their  hands  to  greet  strangers,"  he  said,  "  but  I  ask 
you  not  to  judge  all  Danish  hospitality  from  this  recep- 
tion, Lord  of  Ivarsdale.  Since  Frode's  daughter  has 
told  me  who  you  are,  I  take  it  for  granted  that  they 
were  wrong,  and  that  you  came  here  with  no  worse 
intention  than  to  obey  her  invitation." 

His  glance  sharpened  a  little  as  he  pronounced 
those  last  words,  and  the  girl's  hands  clasped  each  other 
more  tightly  as  she  perceived  the  snare  in  the  phrase. 
If  the  Etheling  should  answer  unheedingly  or  obscurely, 
so  that  it  should  not  be  made  quite  clear  to  the  King  — 

252 


HOW  LORD  OF  IVARSDALE  PAID  HIS  DEBT 

But  it  appeared  that  the  Etheling  was  equally 
anxious  that  Canute  should  not  believe  him  the  lover 
of  Frode's  daughter.  His  reply  was  distinct  to  blunt- 
ness:  "  Part  of  your  guess  is  as  wrong  as  part  of  it  is 
right,  King  of  the  Danes.  Certainly  I  came  here  with 
no  thought  of  evil  toward  you,  but  neither  had  I  any 
thought  soever  of  the  Lady  Randalin,  of  whose  exis- 
tence I  was  ignorant.  I  answered  the  call  of  Fridtjof 
Frodesson,  to  whom  I  owe  and  I  pay  all  the  service 
which  lies  in  my  power,  —  as  it  is  likely  you  know." 

Did  his  voice  soften  as  he  recalled  his  debt?  Ran- 
dalin ventured  to  steal  a  glance  at  his  face,  —  then  her 
own  clouded  with  puzzlement.  No  haughtiness  was  in 
it,  but  a  kind  of  impatient  pain,  and  now  he  winced 
under  the  smart  and  stirred  restlessly  in  his  place.  The 
lightness  of  the  King's  voice  grated  on  her  ear. 

"  Then  I  think  you  must  have  got  surprised,  if  this 
is  true,  which  seems  impossible." 

The  Etheling  answered  almost  impatiently,  "  If 
your  mind  feels  doubt  of  it,  Lord  Canute,  you  have  but 
to  ask  your  foster-brother,  who  conducted  me  hither." 

A  while  longer,  Canute's  keen  eyes  weighed  him; 
then  their  sky  was  cleared  of  the  last  cloud.  The  best 
expression  of  which  his  brilliant  face  was  capable  was 
on  it  as  he  turned  and  held  out  his  hand  to  the  girl 
beside  him. 

"  Shall  we  pledge  our  friendship  anew,  Frode's 
daughter?"  was  all  he  said;  but  she  knew  from  his 
look  that  he  had  taken  her  under  his  shield  for  all  time 
to  come;  and  it  was  something  to  Know,  now  when  her 

253 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

world  seemed  falling  about  her.  For  an  instant,  as  she 
yielded  her  trembling  fingers  to  his  palm,  her  groping 
spirit  turned  and  clung  to  him,  craving  his  sympathy. 

It  seemed  that  he  divined  the  appeal,  for  with  the 
hand  that  pressed  hers  he  drew  her  forward  a  step. 
"  Is  it  not  your  wish  to  speak  to  the  Lord  of  Ivars- 
dale  yourself  and  thank  him  for  keeping  his  troth  with 
Fridtjof?  "  he  said  kindly;  and  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  moved  away  and  joined  a  group  of  those  who 
had  been  his  companions  before  the  interruption. 

At  last  she  stood  face  to  face  with  the  man  she 
loved,  face  to  face,  and  alone.  And  still  he  neither 
spoke  to  her  nor  looked  at  her !  So  strange  and  terrible 
was  it  all  that  it  gave  her  resolution  to  speak  and  end 
it.  Her  Viking  blood  could  not  color  her  cheeks,  but 
her  Viking  courage  found  her  a  whisper  in  which  to 
offer  her  plea  for  the  "  sun-browned  boy-bred  wench." 

"  Lord,  it  is  difficult  to  know  whether  or  not  to 
expect  your  friendship,  for — for  I  have  heard  what  your 
mind  feels  toward  most  matters  —  and  you  see  now 
what  I  have  done  —  " 

Did  he  wince  again?  She  paused  in  astonishment. 
It  could  not  be  that  he  was  surprised,  —  was  it  dis- 
pleasure? Her  words  came  a  little  more  swiftly,  a 
tremor  of  passionate  pleading  thrilling  through  them. 

"You  need  not  think  that  I  did  it  willingly,  lord. 
Very  roughly  has  fortune  handled  me.  The  reason  I 
first  came  into  camp-life  was  that  I  trusted  someone  too 
much,  knowing  no  more  of  the  world  than  my  father's 
house.  And  after  the  bonds  were  laid  on  me,  it  was  not 

254 


HOW  LORD  OF  IVARSDALE  PAID  HIS  DEBT 

easy  to  rule  matters.  The  helplessness  of  a  woman  is 
before  the  eyes  of  all  people  —  " 

His  words  broke  through  hers :  "  No  more,  I  beseech 
you !  "  His  voice  was  broken  and  unsteady  as  she  had 
never  known  it.  "  Who  am  I  that  I  should  blame  you? 
Do  not  think  me  so  —  so  despisable !  If  unknowingly  I 
have  done  you  any  wrong  when  I  owe  you  — "  He 
paused  and  she  guessed  that  it  had  swept  over  him  afresh 
how  much  he  did  owe  her.  Perhaps  also  how  much  he 
had  promised  to  pay? 

"  There  will  be  no  recompense  that  you  can  ask 
at  my  hands  which  I  shall  not  be  glad  to  give,"  he  had 
said ;  and  she  had  checked  him,  bidding  him  wait  to  see 
if  he  would  have  more  than  pity.  If  he  should  have 
no  more!  She  dared  not  look  at  him  but  she  felt  that 
he  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  then  turned  away,  stifling 
a  groan.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her  breath  ceased  while 
she  waited,  and  her  hands  tightened  on  the  coral  chain  so 
that  suddenly  it  burst  and  scattered  the  beads  like  rosy 
symbols  of  her  hopes.  If  he  should  have  no  more ! 

At  last  he  turned  and  came  a  step  nearer  her, 
courtly  and  noble  as  he  had  always  been.  "  I  owe  to 
you  everything  I  have,  even  life  itself,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
offer  them  all  in  payment  of  the  debt.  May  I  ask  the 
King  to  give  you  to  me  for  my  wife?  " 

In  its  infinite  gentleness,  his  voice  was  almost  ten- 
der. For  as  long  as  the  space  between  one  breath  and 
the  next,  her  spirit  leaped  up  and  stretched  out  its  arms 
to  its  joy;  but  she  stayed  it  on  the  threshold  of  utter- 
ance to  look  fearfully  into  his  face,  whose  every  shade 

255 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

was  open  to  her  as  the  day.  Looking  into  his  eyes,  she 
knew  that  it  was  no  more  than  pity.  He  guessed  that 
she  loved  him  and  he  pitied  her;  but  he  could  not 
forgive  her  unmaidenliness,  he  could  not  love  her. 

Slowly  and  quite  easily  she  felt  her  heart  die  in 
her  breast,  leaving  only  the  shell,  the  husk,  of  what  had 
been  Randalin,  Frode's  daughter.  Her  first  thought 
was  a  vague  wonder  that  after  it  she  could  breathe  and 
move  as  if  she  were  still  alive.  Her  next,  a  piteous 
desire  to  escape  from  him  while  she  had  this  strength, 
before  the  end  should  really  come.  Clutching  the 
broken  chain,  she  drew  herself  up  bravely,  her  words 
coming  in  uneven  breathfuls. 

"  I  want  not  that  recompense,  lord.  I  want  — 
nothing  you  have  to  give.  Little  shall  you  think  of 
the  debt,  —  or  think  that  in  helping  you,  I  repaid  you 
for  your  hospitality,  your  —  " 

Her  voice  broke  as  the  memory  of  that  time  passed 
over  her  like  bitter  waters,  and  she  was  obliged  to 
stand  silent  before  him,  steadying  her  lip  with  her  teeth, 
until  the  waters  had  fallen.  She  had  a  faint  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  speaking  to  her,  but  she  did  not  under- 
stand what  he  said,  she  did  not  care.  Her  only  wish 
was  for  words  that  should  send  him  away  so  that  she 
might  be  free  to  sink  down  beside  the  old  well  and  press 
her  burning  face  against  its  smooth  coldness  and  finish 
dying  there. 

"  It  was  the  King  who  sent  for  you,  that  he  might 
know  whether  I  had  spoken  the  truth  concerning  my 
disguise  — "  she  said  when  at  last  her  voice  returned. 

256 


HOW  LORD  OF  1VARSDALE  PAID  HIS  DEBT 

"  Now,  by  coming,  you  have  helped  me  against  his 
anger,  —  let  that  settle  all  debt  between  us.  I  thank 
you  much  and  —  and  I  bid  you  farewell."  Again 
Elfgiva's  schooling  came  to  her  mind  and  she  swayed 
before  him  in  a  courtesy.  She  even  bent  her  lips  into 
a  little  smile  so  that  he  should  not  be  sorry  for  her  and 
stay  to  tell  her  so.  She  did  not  know  that  her  cheeks 
were  as  white  as  her  kerchief,  that  her  eyes  were  dark 
wells  of  unshed  tears.  She  knew  only  that  at  last  he 
was  bowing,  he  was  turning,  in  a  moment  more  he 
would  be  gone  — 

But  just  short  of  that  point  he  stopped,  and  all 
motion  around  her  appeared  to  stop,  as  a  noise  down  the 
corridor  blotted  out  every  sound  in  the  garden,  —  the 
noise  of  a  great  body  of  people  rousing  the  echoes  with 
jubilant  shouting. 

"  The  King !  The  King !  "  could  be  heard  again  and 
again,  and  after  it  a  burst  of  deafening  cheers  that 
drowned  the  rest. 

Elfgiva  dropped  the  gilded  quoits  to  wring  her 
hands.  "  Is  it  the  English,  my  lord?  "  she  implored  of 
Eric  of  Norway.  "Is  it  the  English  attacking  us?  Shall 
we  be  killed?  " 

"  Think  you  that  Danes  cheer  like  that  when  they 
are  expecting  death?  "  the  Norseman  reassured  her  with 
a  hearty  laugh.  "  It  is  good  news,  —  great  news  since 
the  whole  mob  has  thought  it  safe  to  bring  it.  Hark! 
Can  you  hear  what  it  is  that  they  add  after  the  King's 
name?  " 

Listening,  everyone  stood  motionless  as  the  babel 

17  257 


THE   WARD   OF   KING   CANUTE 

came  nearer  with  a  swiftness  which  spoke  much  for  the 
speed  of  the  shouters.  Only  Randalin's  little  red  shoe 
began  to  tap  the  earth  impatiently.  What  did  it  matter 
what  they  said? 

"  Hail  to  Canute  of  Denmark !  "  "  Hail  to  the  King 
of  the  Danes  and  —  "  Again  cheers  drowned  the  rest. 

The  pages,  who  had  sped  at  the  first  alarm  like  a 
covey  of  gay  birds,  came  panting  back,  tumbling  over 
one  another  in  their  efforts  to  impart  the  news. 

"  A  messenger!  "  "  A  messenger  from  Oxford  —  " 
"  From  Edric  —  "  "  Edmund  is  —  "  "  —  Edmund  —  " 
"  A  messenger ! "  one  cancelled  another  in  the  wild 
excitement. 

Elfgiva  caught  the  nearest  and  shook  him  until 
his  teeth  chattered;  and  in  the  lull,  the  swelling  shout 
reached  them  for  the  first  time  unbroken :  "  Honor  to 
the  King!  Hail  to  the  King  of  the  Danes  and  the 
Angles ! " 

From  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  came  a  cry,  sharp  as 
though  a  heart-string  had  snapped  in  its  utterance,  the 
tie  that  for  generations  had  bound  those  of  his  blood  to 
the  house  of  Cerdic. 

"Edmund?" 

The  mob  of  soldiers  and  servants  that  burst 
through  the  doorway  answered  his  question  with  ex- 
ultant shouts :  "  Edmund  is  dead !  Edmund  is  dead ! 
Long  live  Canute  the  King?  King  of  the  Danes  and 
the  Angles ! " 

Unbidden,  memory  raised  before  Randalin  a  pic- 
ture of  the  English  camp-fire  in  the  glade,  with  the 

258 


HOW  LORD  OF  IVARSDALE  PAID  HIS  DEBT 

English  King  standing  in  its  light  and  the  hooded  figure 
bending  from  the  shadow  behind  him,  its  white  taloned 
hand  resting  on  his  sleeve.  An  instant  she  shivered  at 
it;  then  again  her  foot  stirred  with  unendurable  rest- 
lessness. If  he  was  dead,  he  was  dead,  and  there  was 
no  more  to  be  said.  Was  the  Etheling  always  going  to 
stand  as  though  he  were  turned  to  stone?  Would  he 
never  — 

Ah,  at  last  he  was  moving!  As  if  the  news  had 
only  just  reached  home  to  him,  she  saw  him  draw  him- 
self together  sharply  and  stride  toward  the  door;  and 
she  watched  feverishly  to  see  if  anyone  would  think  to 
stop  him.  One  group  he  passed  —  and  another  —  and 
another  —  now  he  was  on  the  threshold.  Her  pulses 
leaped  as  she  recognized  Rothgar,  in  the  throng  pouring 
into  the  garden  with  the  messenger,  but  quieted  again 
when  she  saw  that  the  two  passed  shoulder  to  shoulder 
without  a  look,  without  a  thought,  for  each  other.  Now 
he  was  out  of  sight. 

She  let  her  suspended  breath  go  from  her  in  a 
long  sigh.  "  It  is  good  that  everyone  is  too  excited  to 
notice  what  I  do,"  she  said  to  herself.  And  even  as  she 
said  it  she  realized  that  her  limbs  were  shaking  under 
her,  that  she  was  sick  unto  faintness.  "  I  am  going  to 
finish  dying  now,  and  I  welcome  it,"  she  murmured. 
Staggering  to  a  little  bench  under  one  of  the  old  oaks, 
she  sank  down  upon  it  and  leaned  her  head  against  the 
tree  trunk  and  waited. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

A   BLOOD-STAINED    CROWN 

He  is  happy 

Who  in  himself  possesses 

Fame  and  wit  while  living  ; 

For  bad  counsels 

Have  oft  been  received 

From  another's  breast. 

HAVAMAL. 

ATA !  "  That  was  the  pet 
name  which  Elfgiva  had 
given  to  her  Danish  atten- 
dant because  it  signified 
the  lively  one."  "Tata! 
I  have  looked  everywhere 
for  you !  "  The  pat  of  light 
feet,  a  swish  of  silken  skirts, 
and  Dearwyn  had  thrown 
herself  upon  the  bench  un- 
der the  oak  tree,  her  little  dimpled  face  radiant.  "  What 
are  you  doing  here  in  this  corner  where  you  can  see 
nothing?  How!  Are  you  not  overcome  with  delight? 
Only  think  that  Elfgiva  will  be  a  queen  and  we  shall 
all  go  to  London ! "  As  the  only  adequate  means  of 
expression,  she  threw  her  arms  around  her  friend  in  a 
rapturous  embrace. 

260 


A   BLOOD-STAINED    CROWN 

Something  in  the  touch  of  her  soft  body,  the 
caress  of  her  satin  hands,  was  indefinably  comfort- 
ing. Randalin's  arms  closed  about  her  and  pressed 
her  close,  while  the  little  gentlewoman  chided  her 

gayly. 

•'  What  is  the  matter  with  you  that  you  are  so  silent 
as  to  your  tongue,  when  you  must  needs  be  shouting 
in  your  heart  ?  You  are  as  bad  as  the  King,  who  stands 
looking  from  one  to  another  and  speaks  not  a  word. 
Does  your  coldness  arise  from  dignity?  Then  let  me 
lose  all  the  state  I  have  and  be  held  for  a  farmer's  lass, 
for  I  am  going  to  stand  up  here  where  I  can  see  every- 
thing." Disengaging  herself  gently,  she  climbed  upon 
the  bench  as  she  chattered.  "  The  messenger  had  a 
leather  bag  around  his  neck  which  I  think  likely  con- 
tains Edmund's  crown  and  —  Ah,  Tata,  look!  look! 
Thorkel  is  holding  it  up !  " 

As  cries  of  savage  rejoicing  mingled  with  the  up- 
roar, Randalin  found  herself  dragged  up,  whether  she 
would  or  no,  until  she  stood  beside  her  companion, 
gazing  over  the  heads  of  the  shouting  throng. 

Yes,  it  was  Edmund's  crown.  Again,  a  picture  of 
the  English  camp-fire  rose  before  her,  and  she  shivered 
as  she  recognized  the  graceful  pearled  points  she  had 
last  seen  upon  the  Ironside's  stately  head.  Now 
Thorkel  was  setting  them  above  the  Danish  circlet  on 
Canute's  shining  locks,  while  the  shouts  merged  into 
a  roar  of  acclamation.  Like  blowing  flowers,  the  women 
bent  before  him,  and  the  naked  swords  of  his  nobles 
made  a  glittering  arch  above  him. 

261 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"But  why  does  he  look  so  strange?"  Randalin 
said  suddenly. 

And  Dearwyn  laid  a  finger  on  her  lip.  "  Hush ! 
At  last  he  is  going  to  speak." 

For  now  it  was  plain  that  Canute's  attention  was 
given  neither  to  the  nobles  nor  to  the  fluttering  women. 
He  was  bending  toward  the  messenger,  holding  him 
with  his  glance.  "  Tell  more  news,  messenger,"  he  was 
saying  sternly.  "  Tell  about  the  cause  of  my  royal 
brother's  death." 

The  messenger  seemed  to  lose  what  little  breath 
his  ride  on  the  shoulders  of  the  crowd  had  left  him. 
"  My  errand  extends  no  further,"  he  panted.  "  It  is 
likely  that  the  Earl  will  send  you  more  news  —  I  am 
but  the  first  —  "  His  breath  gave  out  in  an  inarticulate 
gasp,  and  he  began  to  back  away. 

But  the  King  moved  after  him.  "  Stop  — "  he 
commanded,  —  "  or  it  may  be  that  I  will  cause  you  to 
remain  quiet  for  the  rest  of  time.  You  must  know  what 
separated  his  life  from  his  body.  Tell  it." 

Stammering  with  terror,  the  man  fell  upon  his 
knees.  "  Dispenser  of  treasures,  how  should  I  know? 
The  babblings  of  the  ignorant  durst  not  be  repeated. 
Many  say  that  the  Ironside  was  worn  sick  with 
fighting." 

"  You  lie !  "  Canute  roared  down  upon  him.  "  You 
know  they  say  that  Edric  murdered  him." 

At  that,  the  poor  fool  seemed  to  cast  to  the 
winds  his  last  shred  of  sense.  "  They  do  say  that 
the  Earl  poisoned  him,"  he  blubbered.  "  But  none 

262 


A   BLOOD-STAINED    CROWN 

say  that  you  bade  him  to  do  it.  No  one  dares  to  say 
that." 

"How  could  they  say  that?"  Randalin  cried  in 
amazement,  while  the  King  drew  back  as  though  the 
grovelling  figure  at  his  feet  were  a  dog  that  had  bitten 
him. 

"  I  bid  him  do  it?  "  he  repeated.  All  at  once  his 
face  was  so  terrible  that  the  man  began  to  crawl  back- 
ward, screaming,  even  before  Canute's  hand  had  reached 
his  hilt. 

Before  the  blade  could  be  drawn,  Rothgar  had 
stepped  in  front  of  his  royal  foster-brother  with  a  savage 
sweep  of  his  handless  arm.  "  Do  not  waste  your  point 
on  the  churl,  King,"  he  said  in  his  bull's  voice.  "  If 
you  want  to  play  this  game  further,  deal  with  me,  — 
for  I  also  believe  that  you  bade  the  Gainer  murder 
Edmund." 

As  though  paralyzed  by  his  amazement,  Canute's 
arm  dropped  by  his  side.  "  You  also  believe  it?  " 

Little  Dearwyn  hid  her  face  on  the  Danish  girl's 
breast.  "  Oh,  Randalin,  would  he  do  such  a  deed? " 
she  gasped.  "The  while  that  he  seemed  so  kind  and 
gentle  with  us !  Would  he  do  such  horrid  wickedness?  " 

"  No !  "  Randalin  cried  passionately.     "  No !  " 

But  even  as  she  cried  it,  Thorkel  the  Tall  dared  to 
lean  forward  and  give  the  royal  shoulder  a  rallying  slap. 
"  Amleth  himself  never  played  a  game  better,"  he 
said ;  "  but  is  it  worth  while  to  continue  at  it  when  no 
Englishmen  are  watching?"  And  his  words  seemed 
to  open  a  door  against  which  the  others  were  crowding. 

263 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  King  Canute,  I  willingly  admit  myself  the  block- 
head you  called  me  \  "  Ulf  Jarl  hastened  to  declare  in 
his  good-natured  roar.  "  When  I  saw  you  take  your 
point  away  from  Edmund's  breast,  that  day,  my  heart 
got  afraid  that  you  were  obliged  to  do  it  to  save  your- 
self. Even  after  I  heard  how  you  had  made  a  bargain 
to  inherit  after  each  other,  I  never  suspected  what  kind 
of  a  plan  was  in  your  mind." 

And  Eric  of  Norway  smote  his  thigh  with  the 
half  resentful  laugh  of  a  man  who  has  been  told  the 
answer  to  a  riddle  which  he  has  given  up.  "  I  will 
confess  that  your  wit  surpasses  mine  in  matters  of 
cunning.  I  did  suspect  that  you  might  think  it  unfeas- 
ible to  kill  him  before  the  face  of  his  army,  but  I  had 
no  idea  that  it  would  be  possible  to  get  the  land  from 
him  both  according  to  law  and  without  further  fighting 
or  loss  of  men.  On  a  lucky  day  is  the  King  born  who 
has  a  mind  like  this ! " 

One  after  another,  all  the  nobles  echoed  the  senti- 
ment; until  even  the  mob  of  soldiers  found  courage 
to  voice  their  minds. 

"  His  wit  is  made  out  of  Sleipnir's  heels ! " 
"  Skroppa  herself  could  not  be  foreknowing  about 
him ! "  "I  am  as  glad  now  as  I  was  disappointed 
when  I  saw  him  take  his  blade  off  the  Ironside  — " 
"  When  I  saw  that,  I  thought  I  would  turn  English  —  " 
"  They  will  try  now  to  turn  Danish."  "  You  speak 
well,  for  he  will  get  great  fame  on  account  of  his 
wisdom."  So  they  filled  the  air  with  marvelling 
admiration. 

264 


A   BLOOD-STAINED   CROWN 

Standing  in  silent  listening,  Canute's  gaze  travelled 
from  face  to  face  until  it  came  to  the  spot  where 
Elfgiva  fluttered  among  her  women,  holding  her 
exquisite  head  as  if  it  already  wore  a  crown.  An 
odd  gleam  flickered  over  his  eyes,  and  he  made  a 
step  toward  her.  "  You ! "  he  said.  "  What  do  you 
believe?" 

Pealing  her  silvery  laughter,  she  turned  toward 
him,  her  eyes  peeping  at  him  like  bright  birds  from 
under  the  eaves  of  her  hood.  "  Lord,  I  believe  that  I 
am  afraid  of  you !  "  she  coquetted.  "  When  I  bethink 
me  that  all  the  time  I  have  been  chiding  you  for  being 
unambitious  for  glory,  you  have  had  this  in  your  mind ! 
I  shall  never  presume  to  compass  your  moods  again. 
Yes.  Oh,  yes!  I  shall  see  daggers  in  your  smile  and 
poison  in  your  lightest  word."  Laughing,  she  stooped 
and  kissed  his  hand  with  the  first  semblance  of  respect 
which  she  had  ever  shown  him. 

In  the  Danish  girl's  embrace,  Dearwyn  shivered 
and  nestled  closer.  "  Randalin,  you  hear  her?  She 
thinks  he  did  it." 

"  She  is  a  foolish  woman,"  Randalin  said  impa- 
tiently, "  and  if  she  do  not  take  care,  she  will  feel 
it  for  speaking  so.  See  how  his  fingers  tap  his  belt 
for  all  that  his  face  is  so  still." 

His  face  was  curiously  still  as  he  regarded  the 
beautiful  Elfgiva,  —  and  stilly  curious,  as  though  he 
were  examining  some  familiar  object  in  a  new  light. 
"You  believe  then  that  I  had  him  murdered?"  he 
asked.  "  And  you  find  pleasure  in  believing  it?  " 

265 


"  Now  it  is  not  murder !  "  she  protested.  "  When 
a  king  kills  —  in  war  —  " 

"  But  this  is  not  war,"  he  said  slowly.  Lifting 
one  of  the  jewelled  braids  from  her  shoulder,  he  played 
with  it  as  he  studied  her.  "  This  is  not  war,  for  I  had 
reconciled  myself  to  him.  I  had  plighted  faith  with 
Edmund  Ethelredsson  and  vowed  to  avenge  his  death 
like  a  brother." 

Her  white  forehead  drew  itself  into  a  puzzled 
frown.  "  But  you  were  not  so  foolish  as  to  swear  it 
on  the  holy  ring  were  you?  "  When  he  did  not  answer, 
she  raised  her  shoulders  lightly.  "  What  should  I  know 
about  such  matters  ?  Have  you  not  told  me,  many  times 
and  oft,  that  it  behooves  a  woman  to  shun  meddling 
with  great  affairs?  " 

He  gave  a  short  laugh,  "  And  when  were  you 
ever  before  content  to  follow  that  advice?  "  Letting 
the  braid  slip  from  his  fingers,  he  stood  looking  her 
up  and  down,  his  lips  curling  with  scorn.  "  Yet 
this  was  not  needful  to  show  me  that  the  elves  felt 
they  had  done  their  full  day's  work  when  they  had 
made  you  a  body,"  he  said.  And  whether  he  did 
not  see  her  bridling  displeasure,  or  whether  he  saw 
and  no  longer  cared  to  appease  it,  the  result  was  the 
same. 

Randalin  spoke  abruptly  to  her  companion.  "  Dear- 
wyn,  I  can  tell  you  something.  Elfgiva  will  never  get 
the  queenship  over  England." 

"  What  moves  you  to  say  that?  "  the  little  English 
girl  asked  her,  startled. 

266 


A   BLOOD-STAINED    CROWN 

But  Randalin's  attention  had  gone  back  to  the 
King,  who  had  turned  where  the  son  of  Lodbrok  waited 
regarding  him  over  sternly-folded  arms. 

"  Brother,"  he  was  saying  gravely,  "  your  opinion 
is  powerful  with  me,  so  I  will  openly  tell  you  that  you 
are  wrong  in  your  belief.  I  was  satisfied  with  the 
crown  of  an  under-king,  satisfied  to  pass  the  time  as 
I  had  been  doing.  Never  have  I  so  much  as  hinted  to 
yonder  peace-nithing  a  word  of  harm  against  Edmund 
Ironside." 

From  Thorkel  the  Tall  came  one  of  his  rare  laughs, 
—  a  sound  like  the  grating  of  a  rusty  hinge,  —  and 
Rothgar  unfolded  his  arms  to  fling  them  out  in  angry 
rejection. 

"  This  is  useful  to  learn !  "  he  sneered.  "  Do  you 
think  I  could  not  guess  that  you  had  no  need  to  put 
your  desire  into  words  after  you  had  shown  Edric  by 
your  actions  that  your  mind  and  his  are  one,  after  you 
had  admitted  by  your  bond  with  him  that  you  hold  the 
same  curious  belief  about  honor?  " 

This  time  it  was  Randalin  who  clutched  the  Eng- 
lish girl.  "  Oh !  "  she  gasped. 

For  Canute's  eyes  were  less  like  eyes  than  holes 
through  which  light  was  pouring,  while  his  fingers 
opened  and  shut  as  though  he  had  forgotten  his  sword 
and  would  leap  upon  the  scoffer  with  bare  hands. 

Thorkel  left  off  laughing  to  grasp  the  Jotun's  arm 
and  try  to  drag  him  backwards.  "  Do  you  want  to 
drive  it  from  his  mind  that  he  has  loved  you?  Go  hide 
yourself  in  Fenrir's  mouth !  " 

267 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

But  the  King  did  not  spring  upon  his  foster-brother. 
Even  as  they  looked,  the  fire  went  out  in  his  eyes,  spark 
by  spark,  until  they  were  lustreless  as  ashes,  and  at 
last  he  put  up  his  hand  and  wiped  great  drops  from  his 
forehead.  "  Never  had  you  the  keenness  to  father  that 
judgment,"  he  said  in  a  strangely  dull  voice.  "  It  must 
be  that  a  god  spoke  through  your  mouth."  Leaving 
them,  he  moved  forward  to  the  well  and  stood  gazing 
into  it,  his  fingers  mechanically  raking  together  and 
crushing  the  dead  leaves  that  had  fluttered  down  upon 
the  curbing. 

Dearwyn's  pretty  lips  began  to  quiver  with  ap- 
proaching tears.  "  Randalin,  I  am  miserably  terrified. 
The  air  feels  as  though  awful  things  were  about  to 
happen." 

"  It  seems  that  the  world  has  begun  to  fall  to 
pieces  everywhere,"  Randalin  said  wearily.  The  mo- 
mentary forgetfulness  which  the  happenings  around  her 
had  created  was  beginning  to  give  way  before  the 
weight  in  her  breast.  She  drew  herself  up  listlessly. 
"  Is  it  of  any  use  to  remain  up  here,  Dearwyn?  " 

But  Dearwyn's  grasp  had  tightened.  "  See !  the 
King  is  beginning  to  speak." 

Whom  he  was  addressing  was  not  quite  clear  even 
though  he  had  turned  back  to  the  group  of  nobles,  for 
his  eyes  still  gazed  into  space,  but  his  words  sounded 
distinctly :  "  Heavy  is  it  to  lose  faith  in  others,  but 
heavier  still  to  lose  faith  in  one's  self.  ...  I  know  that 
no  word  of  mine  urged  Edric  to  this  deed,  but  what  my 
eyes  may  have  said,  or  some  trick  of  my  voice  or  my 

268 


A   BLOOD-STAINED    CROWN 

face,  is  not  so  sure.  ...  It  may  be  that  I  wanted  this 
thing  to  happen  without  knowing  it.  When  I  see  what 
it  has  brought  me,  I  cannot  understand  how  I  could 
help  wanting  it.  ...  It  is  true  that  I  do  not  always 
know  for  certain  what  I  have  at  heart."  His  eyes  came 
back  from  space  to  rest  musingly  on  Elfgiva.  "  When 
I  began  this  feasting-time,  I  thought  I  had  grasped 
heaven  with  my  hands,  but  now  —  "  he  spread  out  his 
fingers  and  released  the  little  bunch  of  dead  leaves  that 
he  had  been  rolling  against  his  palm  —  "  now  I  let  not 
this  go  from  me  more  easily.  .  .  .  You  see  that  a  man  is 
not  sure  even  of  his  own  mind." 

Again  his  head  was  sinking  on  his  breast,  when  he 
raised  it  with  a  fierceness  that  startled  them.  "  One 
thing  only  I  am  sure  of,  and  that  is  that  I  have  done 
forever  with  craft.  Hereafter,  if  a  man  is  a  hindrance 
to  me,  Rothgar's  axe  shall  send  him  to  Hel  while  it  is 
broad  daylight  and  all  his  friends  are  looking.  Such 
is  my  luck  with  craft  as  though  I  had  grasped  a  viper 
by  the  tail,  in  the  belief  that  I  had  seized  its  snout.  .  .  . 
I  have  been  finely  treated.  .  .  .  Not  only  have  I  been 
betrayed  by  all  of  you  who  have  thought  such  thoughts 
of  me,  but  now  some  troll  has  got  into  me  and  turned 
me  false  to  myself  so  that  I  cannot  give  you  punishment 
for  your  treason!  Certainly  the  gods  must  think  this 
crown  of  great  value  since,  before  they  give  it  to  me, 
they  take  from  me  all  that  I  have  thought  my  happiness, 
and  rob  me  of  my  honor  as  well ! " 

He  dashed  his  fist  against  the  tree  beside  him  and 
did  not  seem  to  feel  it  when  his  hand  was  bleeding. 

269 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Here  I  take  oath  that  they  shall  cause  their  gift  to 
prove  its  value !  It  shall  be  meat  and  drink  to  me,  and 
honor  and  life  itself.  Many  happenings  shall  spring 
from  this  gift,  for  I  will  put  my  whole  strength  into 
the  holding  of  it ;  Odin  himself  shall  not  wrest  it 
from  me!  I  will  be  such  a  king  that  there  will  not  be 
many  to  equal  me ;  such  a  king  that  they  will  wish  they 
had  given  me  happiness  and  left  me  a  man." 

Whirling,  he  flung  out  his  bleeding  hand  toward 
Elfgiva,  and  his  mouth  was  distorted  with  its  bitterness. 
"  Hear  that,  you  who  were  so  mad  to  have  your  lord  the 
King  of  England  that  you  could  not  spend  a  thought 
on  the  love  of  Canute  of  Denmark!  You  have  got  your 
wish,  —  go  back  now  to  your  Northamptonshire  castle 
and  think  whether  or  not  you  are  gladdened  by  it." 

"  Go  back !  "  Elfgiva  fell  from  her  height  of  injured 
dignity  with  a  piercing  scream.  "  What  is  it  you  say, 
King?  Now  by  the  splendor  of  heaven,  you  depart  not 
for  London  without  me !  Be  it  known  to  you  that  I  am 
going  to  be  your  Queen." 

At  first  he  looked  at  her  in  genuine  astonishment; 
after  that  he  laughed,  neither  angrily  nor  bitterly,  but 
with  the  quietness  of  utter  contempt.  "  I  will  have  the 
London  goldsmiths  send  you  a  crown  if  you  wish," 
he  said.  "  That  is  all  you  understand  about  being  a 
queen." 

She  tried  to  protest,  to  cajole,  to  threaten.  She  tried 
to  do  so  many  things  at  once  that  she  accomplished 
none  of  them.  Her  speech  became  less  and  less  intel- 
ligible until  tears  and  hysterical  laughter  reduced  it 

270 


A    BLOOD-STAINED    CROWN 

to  mere  mouthings,  while  her  tiny  hands  beat  the  air 
with  fingers  bent  hook-like. 

But  the  young  King  did  not  look  at  her  again.  He 
had  rejoined  his  nobles  and  was  leading  them  toward 
the  door,  giving  rapid  orders  as  he  walked.  "  Do  you, 
Rothgar,  see  to  it  that  the  horses  are  saddled.  Kinsman 
Ulf,  it  is  my  will  that  you  join  us  some  while  later, 
when  you  have  seen  these  women  returned  in  safety. 
You,  my  chiefs,  get  you  ready  to  ride  to  Oxford  as 
quick  as  is  possible."  His  voice  was  lost  in  the  tramp- 
ling as  they  stepped  from  the  turf  upon  the  flagging  of 
the  gallery. 

When  the  echoing  tread  was  gone  at  last  from  the 
cloister,  the  garden  seemed  strangely  silent  in  spite  of 
the  hurrying  servants,  —  silent  and  empty.  In  the  still- 
ness, it  came  slowly  to  Randalin  that  life  was  not  so 
simple  as  she  had  supposed;  that  she  was  not  going 
to  die  of  her  grief  but  to  live  with  it,  —  live  with  this 
dead  emptiness  in  her  breast.  The  years  seemed  to 
stretch  before  her  like  the  snow  wastes  of  the  North, 
—  white,  white,  white,  without  a  break  of  living  green. 


271 


CHAPTER    XXIV 


ON    THE   ROAD   TO   LONDON 

Hotter  than  fire 

Love  for  five  days  burns 

Between  false  friends; 

But  is  quenched 

When  the  sixth  day  comes, 

And  friendship  is  all  impaired. 

HAVAMAL. 

ROM  Edgeware,  where  the 
Watling  Street  left  the 
Middlesex  Forest  to  cross 
the  barren  heath  known  as 
Tyburn  Lane,  the  great 
road  was  crowded  with 
travellers.  A  small  portion 
of  them  —  messengers,  sol- 
diers, and  hunting-parties 
were  riding  northward, 
but  the  great  mass  was  facing  the  City  whither  they 
were  pressing  to  warm  themselves  in  the  glow  of  the 
Coronation.  On  foot,  on  horseback,  in  wagons  and  on 
crutches,  they  were  as  motley  a  throng  as  had  ever  trod 
the  Roman  stones;  and  the  respectable  element  among 
them  was  by  no  means  large  enough  to  leaven  the 
lump.  Sometimes  a  group  of  merchants  was  to  be  seen, 

272 


ON    THE    ROAD    TO    LONDON 

conducting  loaded  wagons;  sometimes,  a  thane's  pom- 
pous thane,  ensheathed  in  his  retinue;  while  occasion- 
ally, as  they  neared  the  New  Gate,  the  crowd  was  swelled 
by  squads  of  the  lesser  Cheapside  dealers  making  the 
daily  pilgrimage  from  their  country  dwellings  to  their 
stalls  in  the  City.  But  these  were  as  scattered  islands 
in  the  stream  of  half  drunken  seamen,  masterless  thralls, 
wolf-eyed  beggars,  paupers,  vagabonds  and  criminals, 
who  were  pushing  toward  London  in  hopes  of  pleasure 
or  gain  or  for  want  of  another  goal. 

Amid  such  a  rabble,  and  as  out  of  place  as  a  swarm 
of  butterflies  in  frost-silvered  air,  a  band  of  high-born 
women  was  to  be  seen  approaching  the  City  this  early 
December  morning.  Gorgeously  attired  pages,  hardly 
more  warlike  than  the  women,  made  a  blooming  hedge 
around  them,  while  a  sufficiently  strong  guard  of  men- 
at-arms  protected  them  from  actual  harm,  but  from 
impudent  comment  and  ribald  jest  there  was  no  defence. 
Their  hoods  were  pulled  down  as  before  a  storm,  their 
mantles  drawn  up  above  their  chinsj  and  all  but  two 
of  them  appeared  to  be  trying  to  shrink  into  their  gilded 
saddles. 

The  two  who  rode  at  their  head,  however,  looked 
to  be  of  a  different  mettle.  Indeed,  in  the  quality  of 
her  courage,  each  appeared  to  differ  from  the  other, 
though  muffling  folds  blotted  out  anything  like  indi- 
viduality. The  shorter  of  the  two,  while  she  rode  with 
gracefully  drooping  head,  had  left  her  face  practically 
uncovered,  seemingly  unconscious  of  the  half  slighting, 
half  pitying  admiration  elicited  by  its  pathetic  beauty. 

18  273 


The  other,  who  showed  no  more  than  the  tip  of  her 
nose,  held  her  head  bravely  erect,  while,  even  through 
her  wrappings,  the  straightness  of  her  back  breathed 
haughtiness. 

Yet  it  was  not  to  the  pensive  fair  one  that  a  timid 
companion  appealed  for  comfort,  when  a  temporary 
damming  of  the  stream  pressed  those  who  led,  back 
upon  those  who  followed.  She  stretched  out  an  en- 
treating hand  toward  the  girl  with  the  haughtily  carried 
head. 

"  Randalin !  What  will  he  do  —  the  King  —  when 
he  finds  that  we  have  fooled  Ulf  Jarl,  and  come  hither 
against  his  command?  " 

The  Danish  girl  laughed  recklessly.  "  Little  do  I 
care,  Candida,  to  tell  it  truthfully.  Nothing  can  be 
worse  than  sitting  in  that  Abbey.  Here  at  least  there 
is  a  chance  that  something  may  happen  to  help  us  to 
forget  that  we  are  alive." 

Candida  shook  the  cloak  she  had  grasped.  "  But 
you  expect  that  he  will  be  angry !  You  told  Elfgiva  not 
to  undertake  the  journey  because  of  it.  And  you  were 
able  to  say  the  soothest  about  his  temper." 

"  I  was  obliged  to  tell  her  that  to  be  honest,"  Ran- 
dalin answered,  and  again  there  was  a  little  wildness 
in  her  laugh,  "  but  I  should  have  gone  stone-mad  if  she 
had  not  come."  Yet,  as  her  horse  commenced  to  bear  her 
forward  once  more,  she  consented  to  speak  more  en- 
couragingly across  the  widening  space.  "  If  his  humor 
is  right,  it  may  be  that  nothing  disagreeable  will  hap- 
pen. She  is  very  fair  to  look  at,  —  it  may  be  that  his 

274 


ON    THE    ROAD    TO    LONDON 

mind  will  change  at  the  sight  of  her.  Think  that  you 
will  sleep  in  the  Palace  to-night." 

Catching  this  last  phrase,  as  her  Valkyria  came 
abreast  of  her,  Elfgiva  spoke  pettishly :  "  You  see  fit 
to  sing  a  different  tune  from  what  you  did  when  you 
tried  to  hinder  me  from  this  undertaking.  I  should 
have  brighter  hopes  if  I  had  not  given  ear  to  your  advice 
to  send  a  messenger  ahead.  If  I  could  have  come  upon 
him  before  he  had  time  to  work  himself  into  a  hostile 
temper  —  " 

Her  attention  wandered  as  a  couple  of  tipsy  soldiers 
elbowed  themselves  between  the  guards  only  to  catch 
a  nearer  glimpse  of  her  face,  after  which  they  allowed 
themselves  to  be  thrust  back,  shouting  drunken  toasts 
to  her  beauty. 

"  Is  it  your  wish  that  I  help  you  to  lower  your  hood, 
lady?  "  the  Danish  girl  made  offer. 

Elfgiva's  half  smile  deepened  into  a  laugh.  "  Not 
so,  not  so ! "  she  said.  "  What !  Have  you  seen  so 
much  of  war  and  battle  axes  that  you  have  forgotten 
the  ways  that  are  pleasing  to  men?  Yet  methinks  you 
must  needs  have  taken  notice  that,  always  before  he 
goes  into  battle,  a  soldier  tests  the  sharpness  of  his 
weapon.  It  is  to  that  end  that  I  endure  the  gaze  of 
these  serfs,  —  to  test  the  power  of  my  face." 

"  It  would  not  be  unadvisable  for  you  to  whet  your 
wits  as  well,"  Frode's  daughter  muttered  scornfully,  — 
and  somewhat  rashly,  since  Elfgiva's  wits  had  been 
sharp  enough  to  guess  the  significance  of  her  hand- 
maiden's interview  with  the  young  English  noble,  and 

275 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

the  knowledge  had  given  her  a  weapon  which  she  was 
skilful  in  using. 

"  Has  the  sharpness  of  your  mind  brought  you 
so  much  success  then,  my  sweet?"  she  inquired  with 
her  faultless  smile;  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  see- 
ing her  rebel  shrink  into  silence  like  a  child  before 
a  rod. 

The  crowding  of  the  highway  became  more  notice- 
able as  they  neared  the  point  where  the  Watling  Street 
swerved  from  its  old  course,  toward  the  ford  and  the 
little  Isle  of  Thorns,  to  bend  eastward  toward  the  New 
Gate.  Some  obstruction  at  the  forking  of  the  roads 
impeded  their  progress  almost  to  a  walk.  After  a 
brief  experience  of  it,  Elfgiva  spoke  impatiently  to  the 
nearest  soldier. 

"  Why  does  it  become  more  crowded  when  two 
paths  open  before  us?  Why  does  it  not  happen  that 
some  of  these  cattle  turn  down  the  old  way?  " 

The  man  shook  his  head.  "  I  do  not  think  there 
is  much  likelihood  of  that,  lady;  since  the  Bridge  was 
built,  no  one  has  wanted  to  use  the  ford;  and  there  is 
little  else  to  take  that  way  for,  unless  you  are  going  to 
service  in  the  West  Minster  or  to  the  Monastery." 

"  Wanted !  "  the  Lady  of  Northampton  repeated 
in  the  extremity  of  scorn.  "  Bid  them  turn  into  that 
road  at  once.  They  stand  some  chance  of  their  faces 
getting  clean  if  they  take  the  ford,  —  if  they  also  get 
drowned  matters  very  little.  Tell  them,  seek  what  they 
may  seek,  to  take  that  way  instantly,  or  the  King  shall 
punish  them  for  interfering  with  their  betters," 

276 


ON    THE    ROAD    TO    LONDON 

The  man  pushed  up  his  leather  cap  to  scratch  his 
head.  He  was  not  unacquainted  with  her  custom  of 
sweeping  the  Northamptonshire  serfs  off  any  road  she 
wished  to  possess,  but  that  struck  him  as  being  some- 
what easier  than  dispersing  a  Coronation  mob  at  the 
gates  of  London ;  and  yet  to  defy  her  —  that  was 
harder  than  either  of  them!  It  was  an  interposition  of 
his  good  angel  that  at  this  moment  provided  a  diversion. 

Randalin  broke  from  her  silence  with  an  exclama- 
tion: "Thorkel!  Yonder!" 

Less  than  fifty  paces  ahead  of  them,  the  grizzled 
head  of  the  King's  foster-father  rose  steeple-like  above 
the  crowd,  while  the  mighty  shoulders  of  the  King's 
foster-brother  made  a  bulwark  beside  it,  and  the  gilded 
helms  of  the  King's  guard  formed  a  palisade  around 
them.  The  obstacle  in  the  way  was  nothing  less  than 
a  royal  detachment  drawn  up  in  waiting  beside  the 
road. 

Elfgiva's  frown  relaxed ;  for  the  first  time  in  many 
days  she  let  the  liquid  music  of  her  laughter  trickle 
forth.  "  Be  blithesome  in  your  minds,  maidens !  "  she 
called  gayly  over  her  shoulder.  "  Friends  are  at  hand 
to  take  charge  of  us." 

Taking  into  consideration  what  they  had  expected, 
the  attention  was  so  flattering  that  at  first  they  scarcely 
dared  believe  it;  but  its  truth  was  proved  the  moment 
Thorkel  turned  his  head  and  saw  them  coming.  At  his 
command,  the  line  of  gilded  helms  quickly  drew  out 
across  the  road  in  a  barrier  which  once  more  dammed 
the  human  stream  to  overflowing.  A  break  in  the  middle 

277 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

allowed  the  party  from  Gloucester  to  filter  through; 
then  the  opening  closed  behind  them;  the  line  bent  at 
either  end,  and  they  moved  as  between  walls,  guarded 
against  any  further  jostling  or  rude  contact.  Elfgiva 
sparkled  with  delight  and  greeted  the  Tall  One  with 
more  affability  than  she  had  ever  before  deigned  his 
gruffness. 

"  Since  my  royal  lord  came  not  himself  to  meet  us," 
she  said  graciously,  —  and  pushing  her  hood  entirely 
back  so  that  he  might  get  the  full  benefit  of  her  face,  — 
"  he  has  well  honored  us  in  his  messengers,  than  whom 
no  persons  could  be  more  welcome.  I  pray  you,  tell 
me  without  delay  how  it  stands  with  his  health  and  his 
fortunes." 

Turning  from  a  muttered  word  to  the  soldier  at  his 
side,  Thorkel  answered  her  with  his  usual  curtness. 
"  He  thrives  well,  but  his  time  is  full  of  great  matters. 
To-day  he  is  with  the  English  Witan.  Yesterday  they 
chose  him  to  be  their  king.  To-morrow  he  is  to  be 
crowned." 

"To-morrow?  And  he  would  have  let  me  remain 
in  ignorance !  "  The  Lady  of  Northampton  was  unable 
to  repress  a  start  of  anger,  though  she  turned  it  as  soon 
as  possible  into  a  plaintive  sigh.  "  Let  me  be  thank- 
ful that  my  arrival  is  not  too  late.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  we  have  been  beset  with  hardships !  "  Where- 
upon, she  instantly  began  telling  him,  giving  free  rein  to 
eyes  and  lips  and  all  the  graceful  tricks  of  her  hands. 
It  did  not  disturb  her  in  the  least  that  he  rode  beside 
her  in  silence,  when  she  had  observed  that  from  under 

278 


ON   THE   ROAD   TO    LONDON 

the  bristling  thatch  of  his  brows  his  gaze  never  left  her 
face. 

So  complete  was  her  preoccupation  that  she  dis- 
regarded another  thing,  —  the  highway  along  which 
they  were  travelling.  It  was  Randalin  who  first  awoke 
to  a  consciousness  that  the  noise  of  the  rabble  had 
become  very  faint  behind  them,  that  no  sounds  at  all 
broke  the  stillness  ahead  of  them,  that  the  uneven 
weed-grown  path  they  were  treading  was  very  different 
from  the  smooth  hardness  of  the  Watling  Street.  Fens 
on  either  side  of  them,  a  low  hill  to  the  front  —  was 
this  the  way  to  London?  For  the  first  time,  she  spoke 
to  the  son  of  Lodbrok,  who  had  silently  taken  his  place 
at  her  side. 

"  This  is  not  the  Watling  Street !  Yet  we  have  not 
turned —  Where  are  we?" 

Rothgar  gnawed  at  his  heavy  moustache  as  though 
the  answer  were  difficult  to  frame;  and  before  he  had 
time  to  evolve  it,  Elfgiva,  who  had  caught  the  exclama- 
tion, had  broken  off  her  prattle. 

"  That  is  true !  The  crowd  has  disappeared  —  the 
stones  are  overlaid  with  weeds  —  "  In  her  bewilder- 
ment, she  reined  in  her  horse  and  would  have  stopped 
to  look  about  her,  if  ThorkeFs  hand  upon  her  bridle  had 
not  compelled  her  to  remain  in  motion. 

"You  are  still  on  the  Watling  Street,"  he  said 
harshly.  "  It  is  only  that  this  is  the  old  bed  of  it  that 
has  not  been  used  much  since  the  Bridge  was  built. 
Besides  the  ford,  it  leads  also  to  Saint  Peter's  Monas- 
tery on  Thorney  —  " 

279 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

Stung  with  fear,  she  tried  to  snatch  the  lines  from 
him.  "  I  am  not  going  to  a  monastery !  I  am  going  to 
the  Palace." 

As  a  cliff  stands  against  the  fretting  of  waves,  his 
grasp  stood  against  hers ;  and  his  voice  was  as  immov- 
able as  his  hand.  "  Certainly  you  are  going  to  a  palace, 

—  you  did  not  let  me  carry  out  my  meaning.    Adjoining 
the  Monastery  there  is  a  dwelling-place  which  was  once 
a  house  for  travellers,  that  King  Edgar  himself  has  slept 
in  —  " 

"  It  is  a  prison  you  are  taking  me  to !  "  Her  voice 
rose  in  a  shriek.  "  It  is  a  prison !  You  are  mocking  me 

—  I  will  scream  for  help !  " 

His  smile  mocked  her  openly  then.  "  By  all 
means,"  —  he  assented,  —  "  and  see  how  much  it  will 
profit  you." 

She  realized  then  that  walls  were  for  shutting  people 
in  as  well  as  for  shutting  people  out,  and  she  could 
have  screamed  for  very  temper.  Yet  she  made  one  more 
attempt  before  giving  way.  Abandoning  her  struggle 
for  the  lines,  she  let  her  little  gloved  hands  alight  like 
fluttering  birds  upon  his  mailed  arm,  and  summoned 
all  the  eloquence  of  her  beauty  into  her  heavenly  eyes. 

"  No,  sooner  would  I  trust  to  you,"  she  murmured. 
"  You  could  not  mistreat  me  so !  I  beseech  it  of  you, 
take  me  to  the  Palace  where  the  King  is." 

On  what  she  based  her  belief  that  he  was  incapable 
of  thwarting  her  is  not  quite  clear,  for  he  had  never 
taken  the  trouble  to  hide  the  fact  that  he  considered 
her  a  nuisance,  and  her  civil  marriage  with  the  King 

280 


ON    THE    ROAD    TO    LONDON 

a  piece  of  youthful  folly  on  Canute's  part.  Sinister 
satisfaction  was  in  his  tone  when  he  answered  her. 

"  The  Palace  where  the  King  is,"  he  said,  "  is  the 
Palace  for  a  Queen." 

At  first,  it  seemed  that  she  would  either  scratch 
out  his  eyes  or  throw  herself  from  her  saddle.  But  in 
the  end  she  did  neither,  for  a  sense  of  her  helplessness 
turned  her  faint.  To  one  who  has  always  ruled  undis- 
puted, there  is  something  benumbing  in  the  first  col- 
lision with  the  pitiless  hand  of  Force.  "  If  I  had  the 
good  luck  to  see  a  bee  caught  in  a  brier,  I  should  wish 
your  death,"  she  threatened.  But  she  said  it  under  her 
breath;  and  after  that,  rode  with  drooping  head  and 
eyes  that  saw  nothing  of  the  scene  before  her. 

When  the  road  had  left  the  fens,  it  climbed  a  low 
hill,  beyond  which  it  entered  a  wood.  A  brook  was  the 
further  boundary  of  the  wood,  and  across  its  brawling 
brown  water  a  rude  stone  bridge  continued  their  path, 
and  linked  the  bank  with  the  little  Isle  of  Thorns. 
Nature  must  have  had  a  prison  in  mind  when  she  con- 
structed this  island,  Elfgiva  thought  with  a  shiver.  A 
low  sandy  hillock  rising  amid  three  streams  of  water, 
the  high  tide  would  have  cut  it  off  completely  but  for 
the  friendly  arm  which  the  Watling  Street  extended 
to  it  from  the  Tot  Hill,  while  a  thicket  of  brambles  and 
briers  edged  it  like  a  natural  prison  wall.  Nor  had  man 
forgotten  such  defences,  she  found  when  they  had 
passed  a  gap  in  the  thorny  hedge ;  a  fence  of  stone  rose 
sheer  before  them  and  extended  on  either  hand  as  far 
as  eye  could  reach.  In  the  fence  was  a  great  gate  of 

281 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

black  oak,  which  a  black-robed  Benedictine  presently 
opened  to  their  summons. 

Now  for  the  first  time,  Thorkel  took  his  hand  from 
her  rein.  "  I  will  go  no  farther,"  he  said.  "  You  are  ex- 
pected, and  one  of  the  monks  will  be  your  guide.  It  lies 
only  across  the  court  and  through  one  more  door."  His 
lips  curled  in  their  cruel  smile  as  he  motioned  her  for- 
ward. "  Go  in  and  take  possession.  It  is  not  sure  how 
soon  the  King  will  get  time  to  come  to  you.  His  mood 
has  not  been  very  playful  lately.  Rothgar's  sword  has 
scarcely  had  time  to  go  to  bed  in  its  sheath  —  " 

"  The  King  is  occupied  with  great  matters,"  Roth- 
gar's  heavy  voice  bore  down  the  old  man's  thinner 
tones.  "  It  is  not  only  that  he  has  to  be  crowned  and 
make  laws.  He  has  many  Englishmen  to  dispose  of, 
and  much  land  to  divide  up  among  his  following." 

While  Elfgiva's  glance  passed  him  uncomprehend- 
ingly,  Randalin  lifted  startled  eyes.  When  she  saw  that 
he  was  looking  directly  at  her,  she  knew  that  it  was 
no  chance  shaft,  but  an  arrow  aimed  at  her  heart.  The 
time  had  come  that  he  had  looked  forward  to,  when 
Canute  should  get  the  kingship  over  the  English,  and 
Ivarsdale  should  come  back  to  the  race  that  had  built 
it.  And  it  was  all  fair,  quite  fair,  quite  within  the  rules 
of  the  game  at  which  she  herself  had  played.  She  had 
not  a  word  to  offer  as  she  lowered  her  eyes  and  let  her 
horse  follow  the  others  as  it  would.  There  was  satis- 
faction on  the  lips  of  each  of  the  King's  deputies  as  they 
rode  cityward  that  day. 

282 


CHAPTER    XXV 


THE    KING'S    WIFE 

Long  is  and  indirect  the  way 

To  a  bad  friend's, 

Though  by  the  road  he  dwell. 

HAVAMAL. 

HE  fact  that  King  Edgar 
had  slept  under  its  uneven 
roof,  on  some  visit  to  Dun- 
stan's  monkish  colony,  was 
scarcely  sufficient  to  make 
a  palace  of  the  rambling 
rookery  which  a  wall  sepa- 
rated from  the  West  Min- 
ster. It  was  an  irregular 
one-storied  building,  —  or, 
rather,  group  of  buildings  connected  by  covered  pas- 
sages, —  and  every  kind  of  material  had  been  used  in 
its  construction,  —  brick  and  stone  and  wood,  —  while 
some  of  the  smaller  offices  were  even  straw-thatched 
and  wattled. 

"  It  is  the  waste-place  of  ruins,"  Elfgiva  said  on 
the  day  of  their  arrival,  when  the  monk  who  guided 
them  proudly  identified  the  brick  portions  as  frag- 
ments of  the  old  Roman  Temple  to  Apollo,  the  wooden 
door-posts  as  beams  from  the  Saxon  Seberht's  refectory, 

283 


THE   WARD    OF   KING    CANUTE 

and  the  stone  walls  as  contributions  from  Dunstan's 
chapel,  which  the  Danes  of  the  year  one  thousand  and 
twelve  had  reduced  to  a  crumbling  pile. 

To-day,  a  fortnight  later,  Randalin  repeated  the 
comment  with  a  despondent  addition :  "  It  is  the  waste- 
place  of  ruins,  and  ruins  have  come  to  dwell  in  it.  I 
can  believe  that  it  is  no  lie  about  the  Fates  to  call  them 
women,  when  they  put  like  with  like  in  so  housewifely 
a  manner." 

She  was  alone  in  one  of  the  bare  mouldering  rooms, 
leaning  against  the  deep-set  small-paned  window  which 
had  become  her  accustomed  post.  It  offered  no  pleas- 
anter  outlook  than  the  snow-powdered  thicket  beyond 
the  wall  and  a  glimpse  of  the  Thames,  spreading  silently 
over  the  surrounding  marshes ;  but  from  it  her  fancy's 
eye  could  follow  the  mighty  stream  around  its  eastern 
bend  to  the  point  where  the  City  walls  began,  and  Saint 
Paul's  shingled  steeple  reared  itself  in  lofty  pride.  The 
Palace  stood  in  the  shade  of  that  steeple,  —  the  real 
Palace,  where  the  King  sat  deciding  over  the  fate  of  his 
new  subjects,  taking  their  lands  from  them,  when  he 
did  not  take  their  lives,  and  banishing  them  across  the 
sea  to  live  and  die  in  beggary.  Her  fingers  tapped  the 
glass  in  desperation  as  she  realized  her  helplessness 
even  to  get  news  of  his  judgments. 

"  The  King  will  never  come  to  this  rubbish  heap," 
she  told  herself  despairingly.  "  Here  we  are  buried  no 
less  than  if  we  lay  in  a  mound.  It  is  not  likely  that 
we  shall  get  news  by  an  easier  way  than  by  going  to 
him." 

284 


THE    KING'S   WIFE 

Straining  her  eyes  out  over  the  mist-robed  river, 
she  tried  for  the  thousandth  time  to  think  of  some  bait 
alluring  enough  to  tempt  Elfgiva  to  that  point  of  daring. 
Hope  the  Lady  of  Northampton  had  every  morning 
when  she  awoke  and  looked  in  her  mirror,  and  Wrath 
lay  down  with  her  every  night,  but  the  rashness  which 
had  prompted  her  first  attempt,  Thorkel  must  have 
taken  away  with  him,  a  trophy  tied  to  his  saddle-bow. 
She  made  big  plans  and  she  talked  big  words,  —  but 
always  she  put  off  their  fulfilment  until  the  morrow. 

"  At  this  gait,  he  could  be  dead  and  in  his  grave 
without  my  knowing  it !  "  Randalin  cried  in  despair, 
and  her  voice  made  it  quite  clear  that  "  he  "  no  longer 
meant  the  King.  Since  there  was  no  one  to  see  it,  she 
even  allowed  her  head  to  fall  forward  on  her  arms,  and 
let  the  ache  in  her  throat  ease  itself  in  a  little  sob. 
"  Now  it  is  open  to  me  that  I  was  foolish  to  let  what 
happened  in  the  garden,  that  day,  cause  so  much  sad- 
ness in  my  heart,"  c'-ie  sighed.  "  It  should  have  been 
a  great  joy  to  me  that  he  was  still  safe  and  happy  .  .  . 
and  I  should  have  found  some  hope  in  it,  also,  for  as 
long  as  he  is  in  England  there  would  always  be  the 
chance  that  I  might  see  him  again.  .  .  .  And  perhaps, 
after  a  long  while,  when  he  had  quite  forgotten  how 
I  looked  as  Fridtjof,  ...  if  I  should  be  able  to  learn 
many  graceful  woman's  ways  from  Elfgiva,  .  .  .  and 
if  he  should  come  upon  me  when  I  had  on  a  very  beau- 
tiful kirtle,  ...  so  long  as  he  likes  my  hair  .  .  ." 

But  even  as  the  smile  budded  on  her  lips,  she 
plucked  it  from  them,  trembling.  "  How  dare  I  think 

285 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

of  such  things,  when  already  they  may  have  driven  him 
across  the  sea!  It  would  be  quite  enough  if  I  could 
know  that  the  same  land  is  to  hold  us  both,  if  I  could 
have  the  hope  of  seeing  him  again  to  make  it  seem 
worth  while  for  me  to  go  on  living.  Oh,  I  did  not 
dream  how  much  I  leaned  on  that,  until  it  was  taken 
from  me ! "  In  the  utter  loneliness  of  her  despair,  she 
crushed  her  face  against  her  arm,  pressing  back  the 
burning  tears,  and  her  heart  rose  in  a  prayer  to  the 
Englishman's  God,  since  her  own  no  longer  answered 
her :  "  Oh,  Thou  God,  if  Thou  art  kind  and  helpful  as 
he  says,  it  is  easy  for  Thee  to  let  him  remain  here  where 
I  can  sometimes  see  him !  Leave  me  this  one  hope,  and 
I  also  will  believe  in  Thee."  With  her  face  hidden,  she 
stood  there  praying  it  until  it  rang  so  strong  through 
her  soul  that  it  seemed  to  her  the  Power  could  not 
but  hear.  And  after  He  had  heard,  it  would  be  so 
simple,  —  if  He  was  as  helpful  as  Sebert  said. 

There  was  new  resolution  in  her  movements  when 
at  last  she  left  the  window  and  went  toward  Elfgiva's 
bower.  "  I  will  try  once  more  to  entice  her  to  the 
Palace,  so  that  I  can  get  tidings,"  she  determined. 
"  Perhaps  it  will  be  easier  if  at  first  I  suggest  no  more 
than  a  ride,  and  after  that  allure  her  by  degrees.  I 
wonder  what  kind  of  humor  she  is  in." 

It  was  not  necessary  to  go  far  to  obtain  a  hint  as 
to  that.  Even  as  she  entered  the  passage,  she  heard 
from  the  bower-chamber  the  crash  of  a  chair  overturned, 
the  scramble  of  scurrying  feet,  and  then  screams  and  the 
thud  of  blows. 

286 


THE   KING'S   WIFE 

"  Now  it  is  heard  that  she  is  not  sulking  among  her 
cushions,"  Randalin  observed.  "  When  her  temper  is 
up  she  is  little  afraid  of  doing  things  which  she  else 
would  not  dare  do." 

According  to  that  her  expectations  should  have 
mounted  high,  as  she  drew  aside  the  door  curtain,  for 
the  Lady  of  Northampton  was  far  from  sulking.  Par- 
tially disrobed,  as  she  had  sprung  up  from  before  her 
mirror,  she  was  holding  the  luckless  Dearwyn  with  one 
hand  while  with  the  other  she  administered  pitiless  pun- 
ishment from  a  long  club-like  candle  which  she  had 
snatched  from  its  holder.  Between  her  entreaties  for 
mercy,  the  little  maid  was  shrieking  with  pain;  now, 
at  sight  of  Randalin,  she  redoubled  her  struggles  so 
that  the  belt  by  which  her  mistress  grasped  her  burst 
and  left  her  free  to  dart  forward  and  fling  herself  behind 
the  Danish  girl. 

"  Help  me,  help  me ! "  she  gasped ;  as  Elfgiva 
swooped  upon  both  of  them,  her  streaming  hair  taking 
on  a  resemblance  to  bristling  fur,  her  eyes  showing 
more  of  opal's  fire  than  of  heaven's  blue. 

"  Come  not  betwixt,  or  I  will  treat  you  in  a  like 
manner,"  the  mistress  panted.  "  Do  you  understand 
the  evil  she  has  wrought?  She  has  broken  the  wing 
off  my  gold  fly,  besides  tearing  the  hair  half  out  of  my 
head.  It  io  not  to  be  borne  with !  " 

But  the  Valkyria's  fear  of  Elfgiva's  tongue  did 
not  extend  to  Elfgiva's  hands.  Catching  the  dimpled 
wrists,  she  held  them  off  with  perfect  coolness,  as  she 
said  soothingly,  "  Now  you  tire  yourself  much,  lady ; 

287 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

and  you  will  tire  yourself  more  if  you  consent  to  the 
entertainment  I  came  hither  to  propose."  She  laughed, 
a  little  excitedly,  as  a  thought  struck  her.  "  It  may 
even  be  that  you  will  not  blame  her  for  this,  but  rather 
take  it  as  a  sign  that  my  advice  is  good." 

To  say  "  sign  "  to  Elfgiva  was  something  like  say- 
ing "  cream  "  to  a  cat.  Gradually  she  ceased  trying  to 
free  her  hands,  to  gaze  at  her  captor.  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  that?  Or  have  you  any  meaning  except 
only  trying  for  an  excuse  to  get  this  hussy  off  from 
punishment?  " 

"  No,  in  truth,  for  I  thought  of  it  before  I  knew 
that  trouble  had  happened  to  her,"  Randalin  answered ; 
and  now  she  knew  that  it  was  safe  to  release  the  wrists. 
"  I  will  show  you.  I  was  thinking  how  it  might  cause 
amusement  to  us  to  ride  into  the  City  and  see  what  the 
goldsmiths  have  in  their  booths.  And  then  I  came  in 
here  and  found  you  in  need  of  goldsmiths'  mending! 
Does  not  that  look  like  a  sign  that  my  thought  is 
good?  " 

Elfgiva  threw  aside  the  candle  to  come  close  and 
lay  her  hands  upon  the  girl's  breast.  "  Good  for  what?  " 
she  demanded.  "  Do  you  think  it  likely  that  I  might 
fall  in  with  the  King  somewhere  in  the  City?  " 

This  was  going  a  bit  faster  than  Randalin  had 
planned,  and  her  breath  came  quickly,  but  she  took  the 
risk  and  admitted  it.  "  I  did  hope  that  it  might  happen 
that  we  would  see  the  King,"  she  said,  "  and  —  what 
is  more  important  to  us  —  that  the  King  might  see 
you." 

288 


THE   KING'S   WIFE 

Slowly,  the  King's  wife  went  back  to  her  seat 
before  the  mirror,  and  sat  there  fingering  and  turning 
the  jewelled  rouge-pots  in  a  deep  study. 

"  Deliver  me  your  opinion  of  this,  Teboen?  "  she 
said,  at  last,  to  the  big  raw-boned  British  woman  who 
was  her  nurse  and  also  the  female  majordomo  of  her 
household. 

Teboen  was  enough  mistress  of  the  magic  art  to 
give  anything  like  an  omen  its  due  weight,  —  and  per- 
haps she  was  also  human  enough  to  be  weary  of  a  fort- 
night's imprisonment  with  a  porcupine.  After  becom- 
ing deliberation,  she  replied  that  she  thought  rather 
favorably  of  the  plan,  that  certainly  it  could  do  no  harm, 
since  a  visit  to  the  booths  had  never  been  forbidden 
to  them,  while  it  would  be  almost  as  sure  to  do  good  if 
the  King  could  be  reminded  of  how  beautiful  a  woman 
he  was  neglecting. 

Elfgiva's  laughter  was  like  returning  sunshine. 
"  How!  You  say  so?  Then  will  we  make  ready  with- 
out delay!  Leonorine,  come  hither  and  finish  clothing 
me,  —  Dearwyn  would  shake  too  much.  Lay  aside 
your  whimpering,  child ;  the  scourging  is  forgiven  you. 
Tata,  I  could  find  it  in  my  mind  to  scold  you  for  not 
thinking  of  this  before.  You  must  mouth  the  order 
for  the  horses,  though,"  she  added  as  an  afterthought. 
"  I  should  expect  it  would  be  told  me  that  I  am  a  pris- 
oner, whereat  I  should  weep  for  rage." 

Another  flash  of  daring  lighted  Randalin's  eyes, 
though  her  mouth  remained  quiet.  "  A  good  way  to 
keep  them  from  thinking  you  a  prisoner,  lady,  is  to  act 

19  289 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

like  a  free  woman,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  tell  them  that 
you  are  going  to  the  Palace  to  see  your  husband." 
Sowing  her  seed,  she  left  it  to  take  root,  and  went  away 
to  convince  the  head  of  the  grooms. 

As  she  had  foretold,  he  was  too  uncertain  regarding 
their  position  to  dare  contest  their  order,  little  as  he 
liked  it.  In  something  less  than  an  hour,  the  five 
women,  fur-wrapped  and  flanked  by  pages  and  soldiers, 
were  riding  across  the  little  stone  bridge  and  up  the 
wooded  slope  of  the  Tot  Hill.  In  something  more  than 
an  hour  after  that,  they  were  passing  under  the  deep 
arch  of  the  New  Gate  into  the  great  City  itself. 

"  Do  you  purpose  to  visit  the  Palace  first,  noble 
one?  "  the  leader  of  the  guards  inquired  with  a  respect- 
ful if  uneasy  salute. 

The  seed  had  rooted  so  far  that  Elfgiva  did  not 
disclaim  the  intention;  but  she  hesitated  a  long  time, 
pulling  nervously  at  the  embroidered  top  of  her  riding 
glove.  "  In  what  direction  lie  the  goldsmiths? "  she 
asked  at  last. 

"  Straight  ahead,  lady.  Nothing  very  pleasant  is 
at  the  beginning ;  neither  the  shambles  which  lie  across 
the  way,  nor  the  wax  chandler's  which  is  opposite ;  but 
when  you  get  beyond  Saint  Martin's  to  the  Commons, 
you  will  find  —  " 

The  lady's  nose  wrinkled  disdainfully.  "  Which 
way  lies  the  Palace?  " 

"  Down  the  lane  on  your  left,  noble  one.  You  can 
see  where  the  wall  of  the  King's  garden  makes  one  side 
of  Paternoster  Row.  You  can  reach  the  Cheapside 

290 


THE    KING'S   WIFE 

along  the  road  also,"  he  added,  "  if  you  do  not  turn 
in  your  way  until  you  come  where  the  Churchyard 
joins  the  Folk  —  " 

"  Turn  then  to  the  left." 

They  obeyed  her,  but  their  gay  chatter  died  on  their 
lips.  If  the  road  bore  none  of  the  repulsiveness  of  the 
shambles,  it  was  still  little  more  cheerful  than  the 
graveyard.  On  their  right,  an  ice-stiffened  marsh 
reached  to  the  great  City  wall,  while  a  remnant  of  the 
primeval  beech  forest  lay  along  their  left,  leafless,  wind- 
lashed  and  groaning.  Ahead,  behind  its  walls  and 
above  its  gardens  of  clustering  fruit-trees,  rose  the 
towers  and  gilded  spires  of  the  King's  Palace. 

As  they  neared  the  arched  gateway,  red  with  the 
cloaks  of  the  royal  guards,  it  seemed  to  Randalin  that 
an  icy  hand  had  closed  about  her  heart.  The  blood  was 
ebbing  from  Elfgiva's  face,  and  it  could  be  seen  that 
she  was  forced  to  keep  moistening  her  lips  with  her 
tongue.  Nearer  —  now  they  were  in  front  of  the  en- 
trance—  All  at  once,  the  lady  thrust  a  spur  into  her 
horse  as  he  was  slackening  his  pace  in  obedience  to  her 
tightened  rein. 

"  To  the  goldsmiths'  first,"  she  ordered.  "  On  our 
way  back  —  "  Her  words  were  lost  on  the  frosty  wind. 

The  master  of  the  first  booth  in  the  row  of  wretched 
little  stalls  was  humped  with  steaming  breath  over  a 
brazier  of  glowing  coals.  He  leaped  to  greet  such 
splendid  ladies  with  a  profusion  of  salaams  and  a 
mouthful  of  pretty  speeches  that  brought  some  of  the 
color  back  to  Elfgiva's  cheeks. 

291 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  Do  not  have  me  in  contempt,  Tata,"  she  admon- 
ished with  a  laugh  of  some  unsteadiness.  "  It  is  not 
certain  that  I  am  going  to  belie  you  to  the  guards,  or 
that  I  have  lost  faith  in  your  sign.  Let  me  sharpen  my 
weapon  for  some  space  among  these  precious  things, 
and  it  may  be  that  I  shall  go  hence  panting  for  the 
field." 

"  Ah,  gracious  lady,  you  must  needs  buy  my  whole 
stock,"  the  merchant  cried  with  ingratiating  smiles, 
"  for  I  can  never  endure  to  sell  to  another  what  I  have 
once  seen  near  your  face." 

Elfgiva  laughed  beautifully  then,  and  the  Danish 
girl  took  a  fresh  grip  upon  her  patience.  Certainly  the 
jewelled  bugs,  the  golden  snakes,  the  strands  of  amber 
and  jet  and  pearl,  seemed  to  act  as  tonics  upon  the 
Northampton  lady.  If  she  had  not  traded  away,  at  the 
first  two  stalls,  every  ornament  in  her  possession,  she 
would  have  investigated  each  booth  in  the  square.  She 
came  out  in  bubbling  spirits  to  the  waiting  horses  and 
the  half-frozen  guards. 

"This  Cheapside  is  a  very  fairy  garden,"  she 
prattled,  lingering  with  her  foot  in  the  hand  of  the 
kneeling  groom.  "  Everything  in  beds  and  rows  as 
they  were  herbs,  —  milk  down  this  lane,  soap  down 
that,  jewels,  fabrics  —  "  She  turned  with  a  sudden  in- 
spiration. "  Maidens,  -would  not  this  be  a  merry 
thought?  To  find  out  where  the  fabrics  are  kept  and 
try  some  cloth  of  gold  against  these  pearls?" 

As  the  servile  murmur  answered,  Randalin's  brow 
darkened.  Cloth  of  gold  and  pearls,  —  when  a  wolf 

292 


THE   KING'S   WIFE 

was  tearing  at  her  heart !  She  spoke  desperately,  "  I 
wish  that  the  way  to  the  fabrics  might  lie  past  the 
King's  House,  lady." 

The  King's  wife  sent  her  a  glance,  half  resentful, 
half  questioning.  "Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"  Because  if  Canute  could  see  you  as  you  look  now, 
with  your  cheeks  a-flower  and  that  ermine,  like  snow, 
upon  your  hair,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  he  could 
refuse  you." 

Elfgiva's  mouth  curved  bewitchingly.  "  You  speak 
as  though  you  had  jewels  to  sell.  What  fine  manners 
they  have,  these  London  merchants !  Tell  me,  Candida, 
Leonorine,  does  she  speak  the  truth  ?  On  your  crosses, 
has  not  the  cold  reddened  my  nose?  Or  pinched  the 
bloom  off  my  lips  ?  " 

If  the  murmur  that  answered  lacked  any  heartiness, 
their  mistress  did  not  perceive  it,  for  every  man  within 
earshot  swelled  it  with  reassurance,  —  thinking  perhaps 
of  the  hot  spiced  wine  in  the  King's  cups. 

After  a  moment  of  hesitation,  she  flew  up  to  her 
saddle  like  a  bird.  "  Do  you  all  think  so?  "  she  laughed. 
"  Certainly  I  never  felt  in  lustier  spirits.  I  declare  that 
I  will  try  it.  Hasten,  before  the  roses  wilt  in  my  cheeks. 
Forward !  To  the  Palace !  " 


CHAPTER    XXVI 


IN   THE  JUDGMENT   HALL 

Strong  is  the  bar 
That  must  be  raised 
To  admit  all. 

HAVAMAL 

^HILE  he  kept  a  firm  hold 
upon  the  spear  which  he 
had  dropped  like  a  gilded 
[bar  across  the  door,  the 
[English  sentinel  repeated 
Ifor  the  tenth  time  his  re- 
spectful denial :  "  I  will  take 
lit  upon  me  to  admit  you  to 
[the  gallery,  noble  lady;  but 
Ithough  you  were  the  Queen 
herself,  I  dare  not  let  you  in  to  the  lower  part.  There 
be  none  but  men  with  the  King,  and  it  is  not  fitting  —  " 
"  And  is  the  son  of  a  Saxon  serf  to  decide  where  it 
is  fitting  for  me  to  go?"  the  Lady  of  Northampton 
demanded,  facing  him  in  a  tempest  of  angry  beauty. 
"  Whatsoever  you  shall  do  by  my  direction,  dog,  will 
in  all  respects  be  available  to  your  credit.  Let  me 
through  to  my  husband,  or  I  can  tell  you  that  you  will 
find  your  wariness  terribly  misplaced !  '* 

294 


IN    THE   JUDGMENT    HALL 

The  guard  discreetly  held  his  tongue,  —  but  he 
likewise  held  his  position.  Elfgiva's  bosom  was  begin- 
ning to  heave  in  hysterical  menace  when  a  second 
soldier,  lounging  against  the  wall  behind  the  first,  ven- 
tured a  soothing  word. 

"  For  your  own  safety,  noble  one,  ask  it  not.  The 
King  is  listening  to  a  quarrel  between  an  Englishman 
and  a  Dane ;  and  by  reason  of  it,  there  are  many  in  the 
room  whose  tempers  may  —  " 

Randalin,  who  alone  of  all  the  maidens  had  re- 
mained undauntedly  at  her  mistress'  elbow,  caught  that 
elbow  in  a  vice-like  grip.  "  Take  the  gallery,  then, 
lady !  "  she  urged  in  a  piercing  whisper.  "  The  gallery, 
—  as  quick  as  you  can." 

As  an  angry  cat  wounds  whoever  is  nearest,  Elfgiva 
scratched  her  in  the  same  undertone.  "  Stupid !  Do 
you  imagine  that  the  only  Englishman  who  has  part  in 
the  world  is  the  one  you  showed  yourself  a  fool  for? 
Do  you  not  understand  that  if  I  let  them  assign  me  to 
some  dark  gallery,  Canute  will  not  be  able  to  see  me?  " 

It  did  not  appear  that  the  girl  so  much  as  felt  the 
claws.  Her  eyes  had  a  look  of  strained  listening  as  they 
gazed  past  the  sentinel  and  across  the  ante-room  to  the 
great  curtained  doorway.  "  He  will  succeed  better  in 
seeing  you  through  a  dim  light  than  through  a  stone 
wall,"  she  returned. 

Biting  her  lips,  the  fair  Tyrant  of  Northampton 
measured  the  man  through  her  lashes.  He  might  have 
been  of  the  same  material  as  his  spear  for  all  the  sign  he 
showed  of  yielding.  She  could  not  understand  such 

295 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

defiance,  and,  like  mysteries  in  general,  it  awed  even 
while  it  angered  her.  Affecting  to  draw  herself  up  in 
disdain,  she  really  gave  back  a  step.  "  Perhaps  it  would 
be  wise  to  put  off  our  visit  until  a  day  that  there  is  a 
man  at  the  door  instead  of  a  blockhead  —  " 

Randalin's  arm  was  an  iron  barrier  behind  her. 
"  Now  I  do  not  know  where  you  think  the  power  to  do 
that  will  come  from !  "  she  hissed  in  her  ear.  "  Do  you 
not  see  that  if  you  go  back  to  your  grooms  and  let  them 
know  that  you  have  not  got  enough  honor  with  the 
King  to  gain  an  entrance,  they  will  never  dare  do  your 
bidding  again?  Do  you  not  see  that  you  must  do  one 
of  two  things,  or  now  win,  or  now  lose?  " 

Apparently  Elfgiva  saw.  After  a  moment's  bri- 
dling, she  whirled  back  with  an  angry  flounce  of  her 
draperies.  "  The  gallery,  then,  dog !  I  shall  reach  my 
lord's  ear  from  that,  which  will  be  an  unlucky  thing 
for  you." 

Saluting  in  silence,  the  guard  drew  back  to  let  her 
pass,  at  the  same  time  signing  to  a  row  of  men-at-arms 
standing  motionless  as  pillars  against  the  stone  wall 
of  the  ante-room.  With  a  rattle  and  clank  they  came 
to  life,  and  the  little  band  of  five  kittles,  surrounded  and 
led,  was  marched  to  a  low  side-door  which  gave  in  upon 
a  short  flight  of  stone  steps,  white-frosted  now  with  the 
dampness  and  their  distance  from  the  fire.  At  the  head 
of  the  flight,  another  door  gave  entrance  to  a  narrow 
passage  that  probably  reached  the  length  of  the  hall 
below,  though  it  seemed  to  the  shivering  women  to 
extend  the  length  of  the  Palace  itself.  A  third  door, 

296 


IN   THE   JUDGMENT   HALE 

ending  this  corridor,  admitted  them  to  the  gallery  that 
ran  across  the  upper  end  of  the  hall. 

As  she  passed  the  threshold  Elfgiva  exclaimed  in 
vexation,  for  the  light  of  the  log  fire,  whose  rudely 
carved  chimney-piece  broke  the  long  side-wall,  suc- 
cumbed at  the  balcony's  lower  edge  to  the  shadows  of 
the  raftered  ceiling,  and  all  above  was  wrapped  in  soft 
twilight.  "  He  cannot  tell  me  from  a  monster,"  she 
fumed,  letting  herself  sink  into  a  faded  tapestry  chair, 
standing  forgotten  amid  a  pile  of  mouldering  cushions. 

The  three  English  girls,  pressing  timidly  to  her 
side,  answered  with  indistinct  murmurs  which  she  could 
interpret  to  suit  her  pleasure.  The  Danish  girl  made  her 
no  reply  whatever.  Half  kneeling,  half  sitting  upon  the 
cushions,  her  head  was  already  bent  over  the  gallery's 
edge,  and  the  scene  below  had  claimed  her  eye  and  ear 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

Whatever  its  shortcomings  as  a  show-case,  the  bal- 
cony was  excellently  adapted  both  for  spectators  and 
for  eavesdroppers,  its  distance  from  the  floor  being 
little  more  than  twice  a  man's  height,  while  the  fire 
which  doled  its  light  so  stingily,  lavished  a  glory  of 
brightness  on  the  spot  where  the  King's  massive  chair 
stood  beside  the  chimney-piece.  After  one  petulant 
glance,  even  Elfgiva's  pique  gave  way  to  a  curiosity 
that  gradually  drew  her  forward  to  the  very  edge  of 
her  seat  and  held  her  there,  the  three  maids  crouching 
at  her  feet. 

Encircled  by  a  martial  throng,  so  massed  and  in- 
distinct that  they  made  a  background  like  embroidered 

297 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

tapestry,  three  figures  were  the  centre  of  attention, 
—  the  figure  of  the  young  King  in  his  raised  chair, 
and  the  forms  of  the  Dane  and  the  Angle  who 
fronted  each  other  before  his  footstool.  Shielded 
from  the  heat  by  his  palm,  Canute's  face  was  in  the 
shadow,  and  the  giant  shape  of  the  son  of  Lodbrok 
was  a  blot  against  the  flames,  but  the  glare  lay 
strong  on  Sebert  of  Ivarsdale,  revealing  a  picture  that 
caused  one  spectator  to  catch  her  breath  in  a  sob. 
Equally  aloof  from  English  thane  and  Danish  noble, 
the  Etheling  in  the  palace  of  his  native  king  stood  a 
stranger  and  alone,  while  his  swordless  sheath  showed 
him  to  be  also  a  prisoner.  He  bore  himself  proudly, 
one  of  his  blood  could  scarcely  have  done  other- 
wise, but  his  fine  face  was  white  with  misery,  and 
despair  darkened  his  eyes  as  they  stared  unseeingly 
before  him. 

As  well  as  though  he  had  put  his  thoughts  into 
words,  the  girl  who  loved  him  knew  that  his  mind  was 
back  in  the  peaceful  manor  between  the  hills,  foreseeing 
its  desecration  by  barbarian  hands,  foretasting  the  ruin 
of  those  who  looked  to  him  for  protection.  From  the 
twilight  of  the  balcony,  she  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
him  in  a  passion  of  yearning  pity,  and  all  of  selfishness 
that  had  been  in  her  grief  faded  from  it  utterly,  as  her 
heart  sent  forth  a  second  prayer. 

"  Oh,  Thou  God,  forget  what  I  asked  for  myself ! 
Think  only  of  helping  him,  of  comforting  him,  and  I 
will  love  Thee  as  though  Thou  hadst  done  it  to  me. 
Help  him!  Help  him!" 

298 


IN   THE   JUDGMENT   HALL 

Answering  a  question  from  the  King,  Rothgar  be- 
gan to  speak,  his  heavy  voice  seeming  to  fill  all  the 
space  from  floor  to  ceiling :  "  By  all  the  laws  of  war, 
King  Canute,  the  Odal  of  Ivarsdale  should  come  to 
me.  The  first  son  of  Lodbrok  took  the  land  before 
ever  this  Angle's  kin  had  seen  it.  He  built  the  tower 
that  stands  on  it,  and  the  name  it  bears  to  this  day  is 
the  name  of  his  giving.  Under  Guthrum,  a  weak-kneed 
son  of  his  lost  it  to  the  English  Alfred,  and  we  fell  out  of 
our  fortunes  with  the  tipping  of  the  scales,  and  Angles 
have  sat  since  then  in  the  seat  of  Lodbrok's  sons.  But 
now  the  scales  have  risen  again.  Under  Canute,  Ivars- 
dale, with  all  other  English  property,  comes  back  to 
Danish  hands.  By  all  the  laws  of  war,  my  kinsman's 
inheritance  should  be  my  share  of  the  spoil." 

Ending  roundly,  he  drew  himself  up  in  an  attitude 
of  bold  assurance.  Wherever  a  group  of  scarlet  cloaks 
made  a  bright  patch  upon  the  human  arras,  there  was 
a  flutter  of  approval.  Even  the  braver  of  the  English 
nobles,  who  for  race-pride  alone  might  have  supported 
Sebert  in  a  valid  claim,  saw  nothing  to  do  now  but  to 
draw  away,  with  a  silent  interchange  of  shrugs  and 
headshakes,  and  leave  him  to  his  doom. 

In  the  shadow  of  his  hand,  Canute  nodded  slowly. 
"  By  all  the  laws  of  war,"  he  affirmed,  "  your  kinsman's 
inheritance  should  be  your  share  of  the  spoil." 

Again  an  approving  murmur  rose  from  Danish 
throats;  and  Rothgar  was  opening  his  lips  to  voice  a 
grateful  answer,  when  a  gesture  of  the  royal  hand 
checked  him. 

299 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Recollect,  however,  that  just  now  I  am  not  only 
a  war-chief,  but  also  a  law-man.  I  think  it  right,  there- 
fore, to  hear  what  the  Englishman  has  to  say  for  his 
side.  Sebert  Oswaldsson,  speak  in  your  defence." 

Not  even  a  draft  appeared  to  stir  the  human  tap- 
estry about  them.  Sebert  started  like  a  man  awakened 
from  sleep,  when  he  realized  that  every  eye  was  hanging 
upon  him.  Swiftly,  his  glance  passed  around  the  circle, 
from  the  averted  faces  of  his  countrymen  to  the  foreign 
master  on  the  throne,  then  bitterly  he  bent  his  head 
to  his  fate. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say.  Your  justice  may  most 
rightly  be  meted  out." 

"  Nothing  to  say?  "  The  King's  measured  voice 
sounded  sharply  through  the  hush.  For  the  first  time, 
he  lowered  his  hand  and  bent  forward  where  the  fire- 
glow  could  touch  him. 

As  she  caught  sight  of  his  face  Elfgiva  shrank  and 
clutched  at  her  women.  "  Ah,  Saints,  I  am  thankful 
now  that  it  is  dark !  "  she  murmured. 

Sebert  sustained  the  look  with  proud  steadiness. 
"  Nothing  that  would  be  of  use  to  me,"  he  said ;  "  and 
I  do  not  choose  to  pleasure  you  by  setting  up  a  weak 
plea  for  you  to  knock  down  again.  The  right  which 
gave  Britain  to  the  Saxons  has  given  England  to  the 
Danes,  and  it  is  not  by  words  that  such  a  right  can  be 
disputed.  If  your  messengers  had  not  taken  me  by 
surprise  — "  He  paused,  with  an  odd  curl  to  his  lips 
that  could  hardly  be  called  a  smile;  but  Canute  gave 
him  grim  command  to  finish,  and  he  obeyed  with  rising 

300 


IN    THE   JUDGMENT    HALL 

color.  "  If  your  messengers  had  not  come  upon  me 
as  I  was  riding  on  the  Watling  Street  and  brought  me 
here,  a  prisoner,  I  would  have  argued  the  matter  with 
arrows,  and  you  would  needs  have  battered  down  the 
defence  of  stone  walls  to  convince  me." 

Mutters  of  mingled  admiration  and  censure  buzzed 
around;  and  one  English  noble,  more  daring  and  also 
more  friendly  than  the  others,  drew  near  and  spoke  a 
word  of  friendly  warning  in  Sebert's  ear.  Through  it 
all,  Canute  sat  motionless,  studying  the  Etheling  with 
his  bright  colorless  eyes. 

At  last  he  said  unexpectedly,  "  If  you  would  not 
obey  my  summons  until  my  men  had  dealt  with  you 
by  force,  it  cannot  be  said  that  you  have  much  respect 
for  my  authority.  Do  you  not  then  acknowledge  me 
as  King  of  the  English?  " 

Rothgar  betrayed  impatience  at  this  branching 
aside.  Sebert  himself  showed  surprise. 

He  said  hesitatingly,  "I  —  I  cannot  deny  that. 
You  have  the  same  right  that  Cerdic  had  over  the 
Britons.  Nay,  you  have  more,  for  you  are  the  formal 
choice  of  the  Witan.  I  cannot  rightly  deny  that  you 
are  King  of  the  Angles." 

"  If  you  acknowledge  me  to  be  that,"  Canute  said, 
"  I  do  not  see  why  you  have  not  an  argument  for  your 
defence." 

While  all  stared  at  him,  he  rose  slowly  and  stood 
before  them,  a  dazzling  figure  as  the  light  caught  the 
steel  of  his  ring-mail  and  turned  his  polished  helm  to 
a  fiery  dome. 

301 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Sebert  Oswaldsson,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  did  not 
feel  much  love  toward  you  the  first  time  I  saw  you, 
and  it  is  hard  for  me  not  to  hate  you  now,  when  I  see 
what  you  are  going  to  be  the  cause  of.  If  your  case 
had  come  before  Canute  the  man,  you  would  have  re- 
ceived the  answer  you  expect.  But  it  is  your  luck  that 
Canute  the  man  is  dead,  and  you  stand  before  Canute 
the  King.  Hear  then  my  answer:  By  all  the  laws  of 
war,  the  land  belongs  to  Ivar's  son;  and  had  he  re- 
gained it  while  war  ruled,  I  had  not  taken  it  from  him, 
though  the  Witan  itself  commanded  me.  But  instead 
of  regaining  it,  he  lost  it."  He  stretched  a  forbidding 
hand  toward  Rothgar,  feeling  without  seeing  his  angry 
impulse.  "  By  what  means  matters  not ;  battles  have 
turned  on  a  smaller  thing,  and  the  loyalty  of  those  we 
have  protected  is  a  lawful  weapon  to  defend  ourselves 
with.  The  kinsman  of  Ivar  a  second  time  lost  his  in- 
heritance, and  the  opportunity  passed  —  forever.  For 
now  it  is  time  to  remember  that  this  is  not  war,  but 
peace;  and  in  times  of  peace  it  is  not  allowed  to  take 
a  man's  land  from  him  unless  he  has  broken  the  law 
or  offended  honor,  which  no  one  can  say  this  English- 
man has  done.  What  concerns  war-time  is  a  thing 
by  itself;  as  ruler  over  laws  and  land-rights,  I  cannot 
give  one  man's  lands  to  another,  though  the  one  be  a 
man  I  care  little  for,  and  the  other  is  my  foster-brother. 
Go  back  therefore,  unhindered,  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,  and 
live  in  peace  henceforth.  I  do  not  think  it  probable 
that  I  shall  ever  call  you  to  my  friendship,  but  when 
the  time  comes  that  there  is  need  of  a  brave  and  honest 

302 


IN   THE   JUDGMENT   HALL 

man  to  serve  the  English  people  in  serving  me,  I  shall 
send  for  you.  Beware  you  that  you  do  not  neglect 
the  summons  of  one  whom  you  have  acknowledged  to 
be  your  rightful  King!  Orvar,  I  want  you  to  restore 
to  him  his  weapon  and  see  him  on  his  way  in  safety. 
Your  life  shall  answer  for  any  harm  that  comes  to  him." 

With  one  hand,  he  struck  down  the  murmur  that 
was  rising;  with  the  other  he  made  an  urgent  gesture 
of  haste,  which  Orvar  seemed  to  understand.  Even 
while  he  was  returning  to  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  his 
sword,  he  seized  him  by  the  arm  and  hurried  him  down 
the  room,  the  Etheling  walking  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

From  the  dusk  of  the  rafters,  the  girl  who  loved 
him  stretched  out  her  hands  to  him  in  tender  fare- 
well, but  there  was  no  more  of  anguish  in  the  gesture. 
Gazing  after  him,  the  tears  rose  slowly  to  her  eyes 
and  rolled  slowly  down  her  cheeks,  but  on  her  mouth 
was  a  little  smile  whose  wondering  joy  mounted  to 
exaltation. 

No  need  was  there  for  her  to  hide  either  tear  or 
smile,  for  no  one  of  the  women  about  her  was  so  much 
as  conscious  of  her  existence.  The  murmur  below  was 
growing,  despite  the  King's  restraining  hand ;  and  now, 
crashing  through  it  in  hideous  discord,  came  a  burst 
of  jeering  laughter  from  the  Jotun.  What  words  he 
also  spoke  they  could  not  catch,  but  they  heard  the 
Danish  cries  sink  and  die,  aghast,  and  they  saw  a  score 
of  English  thanes  spring  upon  him  and  drag  him  back- 
wards. Above  the  noise  of  their  scuffling,  the  King's 
voice  sounded  stern  and  cold. 


THE   WARD   OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  While  I  act  as  law-man  in  my  judgment  hall, 
I  will  hear  no  disputing  of  my  judgments.  Whoso 
comes  to  me  in  my  private  chamber,  as  friend  to  friend, 
may  tell  his  mind ;  but  now  I  speak  as  King,  and  what 
I  have  spoken  shall  stand." 

Struggling  with  those  who  would  have  forced  him 
from  the  room,  Rothgar  had  no  breath  to  retort  with, 
but  the  words  did  not  go  unsaid  because  of  that. 
Wherever  scarlet  cloaks  made  a  bright  patch,  the  hu- 
man arras  swayed  and  shook  violently,  and  then  fell 
apart  into  groups  of  angry  men  whose  voices  rose  in 
resentful  chorus: 

"  Such  judgment  by  a  Danish  King  is  unexampled ! " 
"King,  are  we  all  to  expect  this  treatment?"  "This 
is  the  third  time  you  have  ruled  against  your  own 
men  — "  "  Sven  you  punished  for  the  murder  of  an 
Englishman  — "  "  Because  you  forced  Gorm  to  pay 
his  debt  to  an  Englishman,  he  has  lost  all  the  property 
he  owns."  "  Now,  as  before,  we  want  to  know  what 
this  means."  "  You  are  our  chief,  whose  kingship  we 
have  held  up  with  our  lives  — "  "  What  are  these 
English  to  you?"  "They  are  the  thralls  your  sword 
has  laid-under,  while  we  are  of  your  own  blood  — " 
"  It  is  the  strong  will  of  us  warriors  to  know  what  you 
mean  —  "  "  Yes,  tell  it  plainly !  "  "  We  speak  as  we 
have  a  right."  Snarling  more  and  more  openly,  they 
surged  forward,  closing  around  the  dais  in  a  fiery  mass. 

In  the  cushions  of  the  balcony,  Leonorine  hid 
her  face  with  a  cry ;  "  They  will  murder  him ! "  And 
Elfgiva  rose  slowly  from  her  chair,  her  eyes  dark  with 

304 


horror  yet  unable  to  tear  themselves  from  the  scene 
below.  The  mail-clad  King  no  longer  looked  to  her 
like  a  man  of  flesh  and  blood  but  like  a  figure  of  iron 
and  steel,  that  the  firelight  was  wrapping  in  unendur- 
able brightness.  His  sword  was  no  more  brilliantly 
hard  than  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  glittering  points. 
The  ring  of  steel  was  in  his  voice  as  he  answered : 

"  You  speak  as  you  have  a  right,  —  but  you  speak 
as  men  who  have  swines'  memories.  Was  it  your  sup- 
port or  your  courage  that  won  me  the  English  crown? 
It  may  be  that  if  I  had  waited  until  pyre  and  fire  you 
would  have  done  so,  but  it  happened  that  before  that 
time  the  English  Witan  gave  it  to  me  as  a  gift,  in 
return  for  my  pledge  to  rule  them  justly.  My  meaning 
in  this  judgment,  and  the  others  you  dislike,  is  that  I 
am  going  to  keep  that  pledge.  You  are  my  men,  and 
as  my  men  you  have  supported  me,  and  as  my  men 
I  have  rewarded  you,  —  no  chief  was  ever  more  open- 
handed  with  property  toward  his  following,  —  but  if 
you  think  that  on  that  account  I  will  endure  from  you 
trouble  and  lawlessness,  you  would  better  part  from  me 
and  get  into  your  boats  and  go  back  to  my  other  king- 
dom. For  I  tell  you  now,  openly  and  without  deceit, 
that  here  henceforth  there  is  to  be  but  one  rule  for 
Angle  and  Dane  alike;  and  I  shall  be  as  much  their 
King  as  yours;  and  they  shall  share  equally  in  my 
justice.  You  may  like  it  or  not,  but  that  is  what  will 
take  place." 

How  they  liked  it  was  suggested  by  a  bursting 
roar,  and  the  scuffling  of  many  feet  as  the  English 

20  3°5 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

leaped  forward  to  protect  their  new  King  and  the  Danes 
whirled  to  meet  them,  but  the  women  in  the  gallery 
did  not  wait  to  see  the  outcome.  In  a  frenzy  of  terror, 
Elfgiva  dragged  up  the  kneeling  maids  and  herded  them 
through  the  door. 

"  Go,  —  before  they  get  into  the  ante-room !  "  she 
gasped.  "  Do  you  not  see  that  he  is  no  longer  human? 
We  should  be  pleading  with  iron.  Go!  Before  they 
tear  down  the  walls ! " 


306 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

PIXIE-LED 

To  a  good  friend's 
The  paths  lie  direct, 
Though  he  be  far  away. 

HAVAMAL. 

|O  Sebert  of  Ivarsdale  went 
(back  to  his  tower  unhin- 
Idered;  and  the  rest  of  the 
(winter  nights,  while  the 
[winds  of  the  Wolf  Month 
[howled  about  the  palisades, 
[he  listened  undisturbed  to 
[his  harper;  and  the  rest  of 
[the  winter  days  he  trod  in 
[peace  the  homely  routine  of 
his  lordship,  —  in  peace  and  in  absent-eyed  silence. 

"  The  old  ways  are  clean  fallen  out  of  England,  and 
it  becomes  a  man  to  consider  diligently  how  he  will 
order  his  future,"  he  told  Hildelitha  and  the  old  cniht 
when  they  inquired  the  reason  for  his  abstraction. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  future  that  was  engrossing  his 
mind,  but  sometimes  it  came  to  him  dimly  as  a  strange 
thing  how  so  small  a  matter  as  a  slip  of  a  girl  in  a  page's 
dress  could  loom  so  large  that  there  was  no  corner  of 
manor  or  tower  but  recalled  some  trick  of  her  tossing 

3°7 


THE   WARD    OF   KING    CANUTE 

curls,  some  echo  of  her  ringing  laughter.  The  platform 
whereon  they  had  walked  in  the  moonlight,  facing  death 
together,  he  shunned  as  he  would  have  shunned  a  grave ; 
and  the  postern  where  they  had  parted  was  haunted 
ground.  Did  he  tramp  across  the  snow-crusted  fields, 
memory  clothed  them  again  in  nodding  grain,  and  be- 
tween the  golden  walls  a  figure  in  elfin  green  flitted  like 
a  will  o'  the  wisp.  Did  he  outsit  the  maids  and  men 
around  his  hearth  and  watch  the  dying  fire  with  no  other 
companions  than  his  sleeping  dogs,  fancy  placed  a  scar- 
let-cloaked figure  on  the  cushion  at  his  feet  and  raised  at 
his  knee  a  face  of  sweetest  friendliness,  whose  flower- 
blue  eyes  brightened  or  gloomed  in  response  to  his 
lightest  mood.  .  .  .  Once  more  he  heard  the  harp-notes 
that  told  of  the  wood-nymph's  sorrow;  .  .  .  once  more 
he  heard  his  laughing  denunciation;  .  .  .  again  there 
looked  back  at  him  the  wounded  eyes.  .  .  .  Whenever 
this  vision  rose  before  him,  he  stirred  in  his  chair  and 
turned  his  face  from  the  light. 

"  May  heaven  grant  that  she  is  not  remembering 
it ! "  he  would  murmur.  And  for  a  while  he  would  see 
her  as  he  had  left  her  in  the  garden,  holding  herself  so 
bravely  erect  in  her  shining  robes,  her  white  cheeks 
mocking  at  her  smiling  lips.  A  great  well  of  pity  would 
spring  in  his  breast,  drowning  his  heart  with  its  pent-up 
gushing,  and  the  waters  would  rise,  rise,  until  they  had 
touched  his  eyes.  But  always  before  they  brimmed 
over,  another  change  would  come.  Slowly,  the  rigid 
figure  before  him  would  relax  into  an  attitude  of  idle 
grace,  the  white  cheeks  would  regain  their  color,  the 

308 


PIXIE-LED 

eyes  their  brightness,  and  —  presto!  she  stood  before 
him  as  he  had  seen  her  from  the  passage,  a  high-born 
maid  among  her  kind,  favored  by  the  King,  guarded  by 
her  lover.  When  he  reached  this  point,  he  always 
rose  with  an  abruptness  that  swept  his  goblet  to  the 
floor  and  awakened  the  sleeping  dogs. 

"  Fool !  "  he  would  spurn  himself.  "  Mad  puff ed-up 
fool!  Keep  in  mind  that  she  has  her  consolers,  while 
you  have  only  your  wound.  If  she  could  stake  her  all 
upon  the  son  of  Lodbrok  and  then  give  him  up  at  the 
turn  of  the  wheel,  is  it  in  any  way  likely  that  she  is 
dead  with  tears  for  you?  What?  It  may  easily  be 
that  she  has  had  a  new  love  for  every  month  that  has 
passed." 

As  the  winter  wore  on,  he  grew  restless  in  his 
solitude,  restless  and  sullen  as  the  waters  of  the  little 
stream  in  their  prison  of  ice.  He  told  himself  that  when 
the  spring  came  he  would  feel  more  settled;  but  when 
on  one  of  his  morning  rides  he  came  upon  the  first 
crocus,  lifting  its  golden  cup  toward  the  sun,  it  only 
gave  to  his  pointless  restlessness  a  poisoned  barb.  In- 
voluntarily his  first  thought  was,  "  It  would  look  like 
a  spark  of  fire  in  the  dusk  of  her  hair."  When  he 
realized  what  he  had  said,  he  planted  the  great  fore- 
foot of  his  horse  squarely  on  the  innocent  thing  and 
crushed  it  back  into  the  earth ;  but  it  had  done  its  work, 
for  after  that  he  knew  that  neither  the  promise  of 
the  springtime  nor  the  fullness  of  the  harvest  would 
bring  him  any  pleasure,  since  his  eyes  must  see  them 
alone. 


THE   WARD   OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  The  next  time  they  sing  the  '  Romance  of  King 
Offa,'  before  me,  I  will  not  hold  back  my  sympathy," 
he  scorned  himself,  "  for  at  last  I  understand  how  it 
is  possible  for  an  elf  to  lure  a  man's  reason  off  its  seat 
and  leave  him  a  dreaming  dolt." 

Like  a  new  lease  of  life  it  came  to  him  when  the 
last  of  the  April  days  brought  the  long-delayed  sum- 
mons to  the  King.  The  old  cniht,  who  considered  that 
a  command  to  military  service  could  be  justified  only 
by  imminent  national  destruction,  was  deeply  incensed 
when  he  learned  that  the  call  was  to  no  more  than 
an  officership  in  the  new  body  of  Royal  Guards,  but 
the  young  lord  checked  him  with  even  a  touch  of 
impatience. 

"  What  a  throng  of  many  words,  my  friend 
Morcard,  have  you  spoken!  Did  you  learn  naught 
from  the  palisade  that  gave  way  because  churls  paid 
me  their  service  when  and  how  they  would? "  he 
demanded.  "  Now  let  me  inform  you  that  I  have 
got  that  lesson  by  heart,  and  hereafter  no  king  shall 
have  that  trouble  about  me.  At  sunrise,  I  ride 
back  with  the  messenger."  And  he  maintained  this 
view  so  firmly  that  his  face  was  rather  stern  as 
he  spent  the  night  settling  matters  of  ploughing 
and  planting  and  pasturage  with  the  indignant  old 
servitor. 

But  the  next  morning,  after  he  had  set  forth  and 
found  how  every  mile  lengthening  behind  him  lightened 
the  burden  of  his  depression,  a  kind  of  joy  rose  phoenix- 
like  out  of  the  gray  ashes  of  duty. 

310 


PIXIE-LED 

"  If  I  had  continued  there,  I  should  have  become 
feeble  in  mind,"  he  said.  "  Now,  since  I  have  got  out 
of  that  tomb  that  she  haunts,  it  may  be  that  I  can  follow 
my  art  more  lustily."  And  suddenly  his  sternness 
melted  into  a  great  warmth,  toward  the  strapping 
soldier  riding  beside  him,  toward  the  pannier-laden 
venders  swinging  along  in  their  tireless  dog-trot,  even 
toward  the  beggar  that  hobbled  out  of  the  ditch  to 
waylay  him.  "  To  live  out  in  the  world,  where  you  are 
pulled  into  others'  lives  whether  you  will  or  no,  is  the 
best  thing  to  teach  people  to  forget,"  he  said.  "  Soli- 
tude has  comfort  only  for  those  who  have  no  sorrows, 
for  Solitude  is  the  mother  of  remembrance." 

He  got  genuine  enjoyment  out  of  the  hour  that  he 
was  obliged  to  sit  in  the  ante-room,  waiting  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  King.  On  one  side  of  him,  a  group  was 
discussing  a  Danish  rebellion  that  seemed  to  be  some- 
where in  progress ;  on  the  other,  men  were  speculating 
on  the  chances  of  a  Norman  invasion,  —  news  of  keen- 
est interest  was  flying  thick  as  bees  in  June;  and 
the  coming  and  going  of  the  red-cloaked  warriors,  the 
occasional  passing  of  some  great  noble  through  the 
throng,  stimulated  him  like  wine. 

"  Praise  to  the  Saint  who  has  brought  me  into  a 
life  where  there  are  no  women ! "  he  told  himself. 
"  Yes !  Oh,  yes !  Here  once  more  I  shall  rule  my 
thoughts  like  a  man."  When  a  page  finally  came  to 
summon  him,  he  followed  with  buoyant  step  and  so 
gallant  a  bearing  that  more  than  one  turned  to  look  at 
him  as  he  passed. 

3" 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Yonder  goes  the  new  Marshal,"  he  heard  one  say 
to  another,  and  gave  the  words  a  fleeting  wonder. 

The  bare  stone  hall  into  which  the  boy  ushered  him 
was  the  same  room  in  which  he  had  had  his  last  audi- 
ence, and  now  as  then  the  King  sat  in  the  great  carved 
chair  by  the  chimney-piece,  but  other  things  were  so 
changed  that  inside  the  threshold  the  Etheling  checked 
his  swinging  stride  to  gaze  incredulously.  No  soldiers 
were  to  be  seen  but  the  sentinels  that  had  been  placed 
beside  the  doorways,  stiff  as  their  gilded  pikes,  and  they 
counted  strictly  in  the  class  with  the  ebony  footstools 
and  other  furnishings.  The  knots  of  men,  scattered 
here  and  there  in  buzzing  discussion,  were  all  dark- 
robed  merchants  and  white-bearded  judges,  while 
around  the  table  under  the  window  a  dozen  shaven- 
headed  monks  were  working  busily  with  writing  tools. 
The  King  himself  was  no  longer  armored,  but  weapon- 
less and  clad  in  velvet.  Stopping  uncertainly,  Sebert 
took  from  his  head  the  helmet  which  he  had  worn, 
soldier  fashion,  into  the  presence  of  his  chief,  and  into 
his  salutation  crept  some  of  the  awe  that  he  had  felt 
for  Edmund's  kingship,  before  he  knew  how  weak  a 
man  held  up  the  crown. 

Certainly  Edmund  had  never  received  a  greeting 
with  more  of  formal  dignity  than  the  young  Dane  did 
now,  while  Edmund  could  never  have  spoken  what  fol- 
lowed with  this  grim  directness  which  sent  every  word 
home  like  an  arrow  to  its  mark. 

"  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,  before  I  speak  further  I  think 
it  wise  that  we  should  make  plain  our  minds  to  each 

312 


PIXIE-LED 

other.  Some  say  that  you  are  apt  to  be  a  hard  man  to 
deal  with  because  you  bend  to  obedience  only  when 
the  command  is  to  your  liking.  I  want  to  know  if  this 
is  true  of  you?  " 

Half  in  surprise,  half  in  embarrassment,  the  Ethel- 
ing  colored  high,  and  his  words  were  some  time  coming ; 
but  when  at  last  they  reached  his  lips,  they  were  as 
frank  as  Canute's  own.  "  Lord  King,"  he  made  answer, 
"  that  some  truth  is  in  what  you  have  heard  cannot  be 
gainsaid;  for  a  king's  thane  I  shall  never  be,  to  crouch 
at  a  frown  and  caper  according  to  his  pleasure.  What 
service  I  pay  to  you,  I  pay  as  an  odal-man  to  the  State 
for  which  you  stand.  Yet  I  will  say  this,  —  that  I  think 
men  will  find  me  less  unruly  than  formerly,  for,  as  I 
have  accepted  you  for  my  chief,  so  am  I  willing  to 
render  you  obedience  in  any  manner  soever  you  think 
right  to  demand  it.  This  I  am  ready  to  swear  to." 

Canute's  fist  struck  his  chair-arm  lightly.  "  Nothing 
more  to  my  mind  has  occurred  for  a  long  time,  and 
I  welcome  it!  Better  will  both  of  us  succeed  if  we 
declare  openly  that  friendship  between  us  must  always 
be  rather  shallow.  I  love  not  men  of  your  nature, — 
neither  is  it  possible  for  me  to  forget  what  you  have 
cost  me.  Hatred  would  come  much  easier  to  me,  —  and 
I  will  not  deny  that  you  will  feel  it  if  ever  you  give 
me  fair  cause  for  anger."  For  an  instant  an  edge  of 
his  Viking  savagery  made  itself  felt  through  his  voice ; 
then  faded  as  quickly  into  cold  courtesy.  "  As  to 
this  which  I  now  offer  you,  however,  I  think  few  are 
proud  enough  to  find  fault  about  it,  for  I  have  called 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

you  hither  to  be  a  Marshal  of  the  kingdom  and  to  have 
the  rule  over  my  Guards.  Men  from  many  lands  will 
be  among  them,  and  it  is  a  great  necessity  that  I  have 
at  their  head  a  man  I  can  trust,  while  it  is  also  pleasing 
to  the  English  that  that  man  be  an  Englishman.  Con- 
cerning the  laws  which  I  shall  make  to  govern  them, 
Eric  Jarl  will  tell  you  later." 

"  Marshal ! "  That  then  was  what  the  mutter  in 
the  ante-room  had  meant.  Sebert  would  not  have  been 
young  and  a  soldier  if  he  had  not  felt  keen  delight  tingle 
through  every  nerve.  Indeed,  his  pleasure  was  so  great 
that  he  dared  say  little  in  acknowledgment,  lest  it 
betray  him  into  too  great  cordiality  toward  this  stern 
young  ruler  who,  though  in  reality  a  year  younger  than 
he,  seemed  to  have  become  many  years  his  senior.  He 
said  shortly,  "  If  I  betray  your  trust,  King  Canute, 
let  me  have  no  favor!  Is  it  your  intention  to  have  me 
make  ready  now  against  this  incursion  of  the  Normans, 
of  which  men  are  —  " 

He  did  not  finish  his  question,  for  the  King  raised 
his  hand  impatiently. 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  swords  will  have  any  part  in 
that  matter,  Lord  Marshal.  There  is  another  task  in 
store  for  you  than  to  fight  Normans,  —  and  it  may  be 
that  you  will  think  it  beneath  your  rank,  for  instead  of 
the  State,  it  concerns  me  and  my  life,  which  someone 
has  tried  to  take.  Yet  I  expect  you  will  see  that  my 
death  would  be  little  gainful  to  England."  A  second 
curt  gesture  cut  short  Sebert's  rather  embarrassed  pro- 
test. "  Here  are  no  fine  words  needed.  Listen  to  the 


PIXIE-LED 

manner  in  which  the  deed  was  committed.  Shortly 
before  the  end  of  the  winter,  it  happened  that  Ulf  Jarl 
saw  the  cook's  scullion  pour  something  into  a  broth 
that  was  intended  for  me  to  eat.  Suspecting  evil,  he 
forced  the  fellow  instead  to  swallow  it,  and  the  result 
was  that,  that  night,  the  boy  died." 

The  Etheling  exclaimed  in  horror:  "My  lord! 
know  you  whence  he  got  it?  " 

"  You  prove  a  good  guesser  to  know  that  it  was 
not  his  crime,"  the  King  said  dryly.  "  A  little  while  ago, 
I  found  out  that  he  got  it  from  the  British  woman  who 
is  nurse  to  Elfgiva  of  Northampton." 

To  this,  the  new  Marshal  volunteered  no  answer 
whatever,  but  drew  his  breath  in  sharply  as  though  he 
found  himself  in  deep  water;  and  the  King  spoke  on. 

"  I  did  not  suspect  the  Lady  of  Northampton  of 
having  evil  designs  toward  me,  because  —  because 
she  is  more  prosperous  in  every  respect  while  I  am 
alive ;  and  now  that  belief  is  proved  true,  for  I  am  told 
for  certain  that,  the  day  before  the  British  woman  gave 
the  boy  the  liquid,  a  Danishman  gave  the  British  woman 
an  herb  to  make  a  drink  of."  He  paused,  and  his  voice 
became  slower  and  much  harder,  as  though  he  were 
curbing  his  feelings  with  iron.  "  Since  you  have  heard 
the  Norman  rumor,"  he  said,  "  it  is  likely  that  you  have 
heard  also  of  the  discontent  among  the  Danes,  who 
dislike  my  judgments ;  but  in  case  you  have  not,  I  will 
tell  you  that  an  abundance  of  them  have  betaken  them- 
selves to  a  place  in  the  Middlesex  forest  where  they  live 
outlaws,  —  and  their  leader  is  Rothgar  Lodbroksson." 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

To  motion  back  a  man  who  was  approaching  him 
with  a  paper,  he  turned  away  for  a  moment ;  and  Sebert 
was  glad  of  the  excuse  to  avoid  meeting  his  glance. 
Not  until  now  had  he  understood  what  the  judgment 
in  his  favor  had  cost  the  judge,  and  his  heart  was  sud- 
denly athrob  with  many  emotions.  "  In  no  way  is  it 
strange  that  I  am  hateful  to  him,"  he  murmured.  "  But 
by  Saint  Mary,  he  is  of  the  sort  that  is  worth  enduring 
from ! "  He  inclined  his  head  in  devoted  attention  as 
the  King  turned  back,  lowering  his  tone  to  exclude  all 
but  the  man  before  him. 

"  Even  less  than  I  believe  it  of  Elfgiva  of  North- 
ampton, do  I  believe  it  of  Rothgar  Lodbroksson,  that 
he  would  seek  my  life.  But  often  that  happens  which 
one  least  expects,  and  it  is  time  that  I  use  forethought 
for  myself.  Now  I  know  of  no  man  in  the  world  who 
is  better  able  to  help  my  case  than  you." 

"I!"  the  Etheling  ejaculated.  Suddenly  it  oc- 
curred to  him  to  suspect  that  his  new-sworn  vow  of 
obedience  was  about  to  be  put  genuinely  to  the  test, 
and  he  drew  himself  up  stiffly,  facing  the  King.  But 
Canute  was  tracing  idle  patterns  on  the  carving  of  his 
chair-arm. 

"  Listen,  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,"  he  said  quietly.  "  It 
is  unadvisable  for  me  to  stir  up  further  rebellion  among 
the  Danes  by  accusing  them  of  things  which  it  is  not 
certain  they  have  done,  and  even  though  I  seized  upon 
these  women  it  would  not  help;  while  I  cannot  let  the 
matter  continue,  since  one  thing  after  another,  worse 
and  worse,  would  be  caused  by  it.  The  only  man  who 


PIXIE-LED 

can  end  it,  while  keeping  quiet,  is  the  one  who  has  the 
friendship  of  the  only  woman  among  them  to  whose 
honor  I  would  risk  my  life.  I  mean  Randalin,  Frode's 
daughter." 

Whether  or  not  he  heard  Sebert's  exclamation,  he 
spoke  on  as  though  it  had  not  been  uttered.  "  One  thing 
is,  that  she  knows  nothing  of  a  plot ;  for  did  she  so, 
she  would  have  warned  me  had  it  compelled  her  to 
swim  the  Thames  to  reach  me.  But  she  must  be  able 
to  tell  many  tidings  that  we  wish  to  know,  with  regard 
to  the  use  they  make  of  their  jewels,  and  the  Danes 
who  visit  them,  and  such  matters,  which  might  be  got 
from  her  without  letting  her  suspect  that  she  is  telling 
news.  Now  you  are  the  one  person  who  might  do  this 
without  making  any  fuss,  and  it  is  my  will  therefore 
that  you  go  to  her  as  soon  as  you  can.  Your  excuse 
shall  be  that  the  Abbot  has  in  his  keeping  some  law- 
parchments  which  I  have  the  wish  to  see,  but  while  you 
are  there,  I  want  you  to  renew  your  friendship  with  her 
and  find  out  these  things  for  me.  By  obeying  me  in 
this,  you  will  give  the  State  help  where  it  is  most  needed 
and  hard  to  get."  When  that  was  out,  he  raised  his 
head  and  met  the  Etheling's  eyes  squarely,  and  it  was 
plain  to  each  of  them  that  the  moment  had  come  which 
must,  once  and  forever,  decide  their  future  relations. 

It  was  a  long  time  that  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  stood 
there,  the  pride  of  his  rank,  and  the  prejudice  of  his 
blood,  struggling  with  his  new  convictions,  his  new 
loyalty.  But  at  last  he  took  his  eyes  from  the  King's 
to  bow  before  him  in  noble  submission. 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  This  is  not  the  way  of  fighting  that  I  am  used  to, 
King  Canute,"  he  said,  "  and  I  will  not  deny  that 
I  had  rather  you  had  set  me  any  other  task;  but 
neither  can  I  deny  that,  since  you  find  you  have  need 
of  my  wits  rather  than  of  my  sword,  it  is  with  my  wits 
that  it  behooves  me  to  serve  you.  Tell  me  clearly  what 
is  your  command,  and  neither  haughtiness  nor  self-will 
shall  hinder  me  from  fulfilling  it." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 


WHEN    LOVE   MEETS    LOVE 

Rejoiced  at  evil 

Be  thou  never, 

But  let  good  give  thee  pleasure. 

HAVAMAL. 

BEFORE  the  time  of  the 
[Confessor,  the  West  Minster 
[was  little  more  than  the 
[Monastery  chapel,  in  which 
the  presence  of  the  parish 
[folk,  if  not  forbidden,  was 
[still  in  no  way  encouraged. 
[To-day,  when  the  Lord  of 
[ivarsdale  came  unnoticed 
{into  the  dim  light  while  the 
last  strains  of  the  vesper  service  were  rising,  there  were 
no  more  than  a  score  of  worshippers  scattered  through 
the  north  aisle,  —  a  handful  of  women,  wives  of  the 
Abbot's  military  tenants,  a  trader  bound  for  the  land 
beyond  the  ford,  a  couple  of  yeomen  and  a  hollow-eyed 
pilgrim,  drifting  with  the  current  of  his  unsteady  mind. 
After  a  searching  glance  around  him,  the  Etheling  took 
up  his  station  in  the  shelter  of  a  pillar. 

"  Little   danger  —  or  hope  —  is  there  that   I   can 
miss  her,"  he  told  himself,  "  if  she  is  indeed  here,  as 


THE  WARD   OF   KING   CANUTE 

the  page  said.  Yet  of  all  the  unlikely  places  to  seek 
her !  "  he  smiled  faintly  as  the  figure  in  elfin  green  flitted 
through  his  mind.  As  well  look  for  a  wood-nymph  at 
confession  —  unless  indeed,  Elfgiva  had  taken  her  there 
against  her  will —  But  that  was  scarcely  likely,  he 
remembered  immediately  afterwards,  since  an  English- 
woman who  had  entered  into  a  civil  marriage  with  a 
Dane  would  be  little  apt  to  frequent  an  English  church. 
"  Doubtless  she  makes  of  it  a  meeting  place  with 
her  newest  lover,"  he  concluded.  And  the  anger  the 
thought  gave  him,  and  a  sense  of  the  helplessness  of 
his  own  position,  was  so  great  that  he  could  not  remain 
quiet  under  it  but  was  tortured  into  moving  restlessly 
to  and  fro  in  the  shadow. 

Tender  as  the  gloaming  of  a  summer  day  was  the 
shade  in  the  great  nave,  with  the  ever-burning  candles 
to  remind  one  of  the  eternal  stars.  Now  their  quivering 
light  called  into  life,  for  one  brief  moment,  the  golden 
dove  that  hung  above  the  altar;  now  it  touched  with 
dazzling  brightness  the  precious  service  on  the  holy 
table  itself;  again  it  was  veiled  by  drifting  incense  as 
by  heaven's  clouds.  From  the  throats  of  the  hidden 
choir,  the  last  note  swelled  rich  and  full,  to  roll  out 
over  the  pillared  aisles  in  a  wave  of  vibrant  sound  and 
pass  away  in  a  sigh  of  ineffable  sweetness  under  the 
rafters. 

As  he  bowed  his  head  in  the  holy  hush  that 
followed,  the  hush  of  souls  before  a  wordless  bene- 
diction, some  of  Sebert's  bitterness  gave  way  to  a 
great  compassion.  What  were  we  all,  when  all  was 

320 


WHEN    LOVE   MEETS    LOVE 

told,  but  wrong-doers  and  mourners?  Why  should 
one  hold  anger  against  another?  In  pity  for  himself 
and  the  whole  world,  his  heart  ached  within  him,  as 
a  rustling  of  gowns  and  a  shuffling  of  feet  told  that 
the  worshippers  had  risen  from  their  knees  and  were 
coming  toward  him.  He  raised  his  bowed  head  sadly, 
fearfully. 

First  came  the  merchant,  tugging  at  his  long  beard 
as  he  advanced,  —  though  whether  his  meditations  were 
the  leavings  of  the  mood  that  had  held  him  or  a  reaching 
forward  into  the  busy  future,  none  could  tell.  Him, 
Sebert's  eye  dismissed  with  a  listless  glance.  Behind 
the  trader  came  the  yeomen,  one  of  them  yawning  and 
stretching  noisily,  the  other  energetically  pulling  up 
his  belt  as  one  tightens  the  loosened  girth  on  a  horse 
that  has  had  an  interval  of  rest.  The  young  noble's 
glance  leaped  them  completely  in  its  haste  to  reach 
those  who  followed,  —  the  knot  of  women,  fluttering 
and  rustling  and  preening  like  a  flock  of  birds.  But 
the  bird  he  sought  was  not  of  their  number.  He  stared 
blindly  at  the  pilgrim  as  the  wanderer  shuffled  past, 
muttering  and  beating  his  breast.  Only  one  figure  fol- 
lowed the  penitent,  and  if  that  should  not  be  she! 
Even  though  he  felt  that  it  could  not  be  —  even  though 
he  hoped  it  was  not  —  hoping  and  fearing,  dreading 
and  longing,  his  eyes  advanced  to  meet  the  last  of  the 
worshippers. 

Only  one  figure,  but  all  at  once  it  was  as  though 
the  whole  world  were  before  him! 

Coming  slowly  toward  him  out  of  the  soft  twilight, 

21  321 


with  eyes  downcast  and  hands  folded  nun-like  before 
her,  the  daughter  of  Frode  did  not  look  out  of  place 
amid  blue  wreaths  of  incense  and  starry  altar  tapers. 
Even  her  robes  were  in  keeping,  gold-weighted  as  they 
were,  for  hood  and  gown  and  fur-bordered  mantle  were 
of  the  deepest  heliotrope,  that  color  which  bears  the 
majesty  of  sorrow  while  yet  it  holds  within  it  the  rose- 
tint  of  gladness.  Beneath  its  tender  shadow  the  dusk 
of  her  hair  became  deeper,  and  her  face,  robbed  by 
winter  of  its  brownness,  took  on  the  delicacy  of  a  cameo. 
Ah,  what  a  face  it  was  now,  since  pain  had  deepened 
its  sweetness  and  patience  had  purified  its  ardor!  The 
radiance  of  a  newly-wakened  soul  was  like  a  halo 
around  it. 

Standing  there  gazing  at  her,  a  wonderful  change 
came  over  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale.  Neither  then  nor 
ever  after  could  he  understand  how  it  happened,  but, 
all  at  once,  the  barrier  that  circumstances  had  raised 
against  her  fell  like  the  city  walls  before  the  trumpet 
blast,  until  not  one  stone  was  left  standing  upon  an- 
other. Without  knowing  how  or  why,  —  looking  at 
her,  he  believed  in  her ;  and  his  manner,  which  a  moment 
before  had  been  constrained  and  hesitating,  became 
easeful  with  perfect  confidence.  Without  knowing  how 
or  why  he  knew  it,  he  knew  that  she  had  never  squan- 
dered her  love  on  the  Jotun,  neither  had  she  come  here 
to  meet  any  Dane  of  the  host.  He  knew  her  for  his 
dream-love,  sweet  and  true  and  fine;  and  he  stepped 
out  of  the  shadow  and  knelt  before  her,  raising  the  hem 
of  her  cloak  to  his  lips. 

322 


WHEN    LOVE   MEETS    LOVE 

"  Most  gentle  lady,  will  you  give  a  beggar  alms?" 
he  said  with  tender  lightness. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  was  like  a  stone  cast  into 
still  water.  The  rapt  peace  of  her  look  was  broken  into 
an  eddy  of  conflicting  emotions.  Amazement  was  there 
and  a  swift  joy,  which  gave  way  almost  before  it  could 
be  named  to  something  approaching  dread,  and  that  in 
turn  yielded  place  to  wide-eyed  wonder.  With  her 
hands  clasped  tightly  over  her  breast,  she  stood  looking 
down  at  him. 

"  My  lord?  "  she  faltered. 

As  one  who  spreads  out  his  store,  he  held  out  his 
palms  toward  her.  "  Randalin,  I  have  sought  you  to 
add  to  the  payment  of  my  debt  the  one  thing  that  in 
my  blindness  I  held  back,  —  I  have  come  to  add  my 
true  love  to  the  rest  I  lay  before  you." 

As  a  flower  toward  the  sun,  she  seemed  to  sway 
toward  him,  then  drew  back,  her  sweet  mouth  trem- 
bling softly.  "I  —  I  want  not  your  pity,"  she  said 
brokenly. 

Still  kneeling  before  her,  he  possessed  himself  of 
her  hands  and  drew  them  down  to  his  lips.  "  Is  it  thus, 
on  his  knee,  that  one  offers  pity?  "  he  said.  Holding 
the  hands  fast,  he  rose  and  stood  before  her.  "  Heart 
beloved  of  my  heart,  you  were  merciless  to  read  the 
truth  before.  Look  again,  and  take  care  that  you  read 
me  as  fairly  now." 

Despite  his  gentleness,  there  was  a  strength  in 
his  exaltation  which  would  not  be  resisted.  Turning 
shrinkingly,  she  looked  into  his  eyes. 

323 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

In  the  gray-blue  depths  of  her  own  he  saw  the 
shimmer  of  a  dawning  light,  as  when  the  evening  star 
first  breaks  through  a  June  sky,  and  gradually  the  star- 
splendor  spread  over  her  face,  until  it  touched  her 
parted  lips. 

"  You  —  love  me  —  "  she  breathed,  but  her  voice 
no  longer  made  it  a  question. 

Still  gazing  into  his  eyes,  she  let  him  draw  her 
closer  and  closer,  till  he  had  gathered  her  to  his  breast. 


3*4 


CHAPTER    XXIX 


THE   RING  OF   THE   COILED    SNAKE 

He  is  happy 
Who  for  himself  obtains 
Fame  and  kind  words  ; 
Less  sure  is  that 
Which  a  man  must  have 
In  another's  breast. 

HAVAMAL. 

,HE  murmur  of  the  rain  that 
was  falling  gently  on  the 
udding  roses  of  the  Abbey 
garden  stole  in  through  the 
[open  windows  of  Elfgiva's 
bower  and  blended  softly 
with  the  music  of  Candida's 
lyre.  Poring  over  the  dingy 
scrolls  spread  out  on  the 
table  before  her,  the  Lady 
of  Northampton  yawned  until  she  was  moved  to  throw 
herself  back  among  her  cushions  with  a  gesture  of 
graceful  surrender. 

"  It  seems  that  the  Saints  are  going  to  take  pity 
on  me  and  shorten  one  of  these  endless  days  with  a 
nap.  Nurse,  have  a  care  for  these  scrolls.  And  if  it 
happen  that  the  King's  Marshal  comes —  Randalin! 
Where  is  Randalin?" 

325 


THE   WARD   OF    KING    CANUTE 

Beyond  Leonorine's  embroidery  frame  and  the 
stool  where  Candida  bent  over  her  lyre,  the  length  of 
the  room  away,  a  figure  in  iris-blue  turned  from  the 
window  by  which  it  stood. 

"  Here,  lady.    What  is  your  need?  " 

To  place  the  speaker  Elfgiva  raised  her  head 
slightly,  laughing  as  she  let  it  sink  back.  "  Watching 
for  him  already,  and  the  sun  but  little  past  noon?  For 
shame,  moppet!  Come  here." 

"  So  please  you,  I  was  watching  the  rain  on  the 
roses,"  Randalin  excused  herself  with  a  blush  as  she 
came  forward. 

A  merry  chorus  mocked  her :  "  Is  it  to  watch  the 
roses  that  you  have  put  on  the  gown  which  matches 
your  eyes,  you  sly  one  ?"..."  And  the  lilies  in  your 
hair,  sweet?  Is  it  to  shelter  them  from  the  rain  that 
you  wear  them?"  .  .  .  "Fie,  Tata!  Can  you  not  fib 
yet  without  changing  color?  " 

But  Elfgiva  raised  an  impatient  hand.  "  Peace, 
chatterers ! "  she  commanded ;  and  drawing  the  girl  to 
her,  she  spoke  low  and  earnestly  in  her  ear. 

Randalin  looked  up  in  surprise.  "  You  will  not 
see  him,  lady?  Not  though  he  bring  news  of  the  doings 
in  the  Palace?" 

"  Heaven's  mercy !  "  Elfgiva  shrugged  with  a  touch 
of  scorn.  "  What  abundance  of  news  he  has  found  to 
bring  since  the  day  he  fell  in  with  you  at  even-song ! " 
Then  she  consented  to  smile  faintly  as  she  settled  her 
head  among  the  cushions.  "  I  would  rather  sleep,  child. 
Comfort  him  as  best  you  can,  —  only  not  so  well  that 

326 


THE   RING    OF   THE    COILED   SNAKE 

you  forget  that  which  I  enjoined  you.  If  he  fail  us, 
I  cannot  tell  what  we  shall  do,  —  now  that  the  second 
scullion  has  been  so  foolish  as  to  get  himself  killed  in 
some  way.  Where  bear  you  the  ring?  " 

The  girl  touched  the  spot  where  the  gold  chain  that 
encircled  her  neck  crept  into  the  breast  of  her  gown. 
The  lady  shook  her  head. 

"  Never  would  you  think  of  it  again.  Take  it  out 
and  wear  it  on  your  finger." 

As  she  obeyed,  Randalin  laughed  a  little,  for  the 
ring  was  a  man's  ring,  a  massive  spiral  whose  two  ends 
were  finished  with  serpents'  heads,  and  her  thickest 
finger  was  but  a  loose  fit  in  its  girth.  But  Elfgiva, 
when  she  had  seen  it  on,  closed  her  eyes  with  an  air 
of  satisfaction. 

"  To  keep  from  losing  it,  will  keep  it  in  your  mind," 
she  said.  "  Now  leave  me.  Candida,  —  more  softly ! 
And  see  to  it  that  you  do  not  stop  the  moment  my  eyes 
are  closing.  Leonorine,  why  are  you  industrious  in 
singing  only  when  it  is  not  required  of  you?  .  .  .  That 
is  better.  .  .  .  Let  no  one  wake  me." 

They  drew  silence  around  her  like  a  curtain 
through  whose  silken  web  the  blended  voices  of  rain 
and  lyre  and  singer  crept  in  soothing  melody.  To 
escape  its  ensnaring  folds,  Randalin  stole  back  to  the 
distant  window  beneath  which  Dearwyn  sat  on  a  little 
bench,  weaving  clover  blossoms  into  a  chain. 

The  little  gentlewoman  looked  up  with  her  soft 
pretty  smile.  "  How  mysterious  you  are,  you  two ! " 
she  whispered,  as  she  swept  the  mass  of  rosy  bloom  to 

327 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

the  floor  to  make  room  for  her  friend.  "  What  with 
Teboen  always  seething  ill-smelling  herbs  and  —  Tata, 
I  pray  you  to  tell  who  has  gifted  you  with  such  a 
monster?  " 

Waving  the  ring  where  the  light  might  catch  the 
serpents'  eyes,  Randalin  pursed  her  lips  with  so  much 
mystery  that  her  friend  was  tempted  to  catch  the  hand 
and  hold  it  prisoner  while  she  examined  the  ornament. 
After  one  look,  however,  she  let  it  fall  with  an  expres- 
sion of  awe  upon  her  dimpled  face. 

"  The  ring  Canute  gave  Elfgiva  —  that  he  won 
from  the  giant  Rothgar?  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
press  upon  her  secrets!  My  ears  tingle  yet  from  the 
cuff  I  got  only  for  looking  at  yonder  dirty  scroll.  Yet 
how  long  is  it  since  you  were  taken  into  their  councils, 
Tata?  Yesterday  you  were  no  better  able  than  I  to 
say  how  things  were  with  her." 

"How  long?"  Randalin  repeated  dreamily.  Her 
gaze  had  gone  back  again  to  the  rain,  falling  so  softly 
that  every  pool  in  the  sodden  paths  seemed  to  be  full 
of  lazily  winking  eyes.  "  Oh,  there  are  many  good 
chances  that  he  will  be  here  soon  now.  He  is  seldom 
later  than  the  third  hour  after  noon." 

After  a  bewildered  gasp,  Dearwyn  stifled  a  burst 
of  laughter  in  her  garlands.  "  Oh,  Tata,  come  to  earth ! " 
she  admonished.  "  Come  to  earth !  "  And  scooping 
up  a  handful  of  the  fragrant  bloom,  she  pelted  the 
dreamer  with  rosy  balls. 

Shaking  them  from  robe  and  clustering  hair,  Ran- 
dalin turned  back,  smiling.  But  her  lips  sobered  almost 

328 


THE    RING    OF   THE    COILED    SNAKE 

to  wistfulness  as  she  sank  down  upon  the  seat  beside 
her  friend.  "  It  seems  that  I  must  do  that  against  my 
will,"  she  said.  "  Dearwyn,  do  you  get  afraid  when  you 
are  happy?  Sometimes,  when  I  stand  here  watching 
for  him  and  think  how  different  all  has  happened  from 
what  I  supposed,  I  am  so  happy,"  —  she  paused,  and  it 
was  as  though  the  sun  had  caught  the  iris  flowers  in  her 
eyes,  until  a  cloud  came  between  and  the  blue  petals 
purpled  darkly — "so  happy  that  it  causes  fear  to  me,lest 
it  be  no  more  than  a  dream  or  in  some  way  not  true." 

Her  cheek,  as  she  ended,  was  softly  pale,  but  Dear- 
wyn brushed  it  pink  with  sweeps  of  the  long-stemmed 
blossom  in  her  hand. 

"  Sweet,  it  is  the  waxing  of  the  moon.  I  pray  you 
be  blithe  in  your  spirits.  Small  wonder  your  lover 
bears  himself  as  gravely  as  a  stone  man  on  a  tomb  if 
you  talk  such  —  " 

"  Dearwyn,  the  same  thought  has  overtaken  us 
both ! "  Randalin  broke  in  anxiously,  and  now  she  was 
all  awake  and  staying  the  other's  busy  fingers  to  ensure 
her  attention.  "  Not  a  few  times  it  has  seemed  to  me 
that  he  looks  weary  of  heart,  as  though  some  struggle 
were  sapping  his  strength.  He  swears  it  is  not  so, 
yet  I  think  the  rebellion  of  his  pride  against  king- 
serving  —  " 

"  If  you  want  to  know  my  belief,  it  is  that  he  carries 
trouble  in  his  breast  about  you,"  Dearwyn  interrupted. 

"  About  me?  "  So  much  hurt  surprise  was  in  Ran- 
dalin's  manner  that  the  little  maid  begged  forgiveness 
with  caresses  of  the  swaying  clover. 

329 


THE   WARD   OF   KING   CANUTE 

"  Be  not  vexed,  honey,  but  in  truth  he  is  overcome 
by  the  oddest  look  whensoever  he  watches  you  without 
your  seeing,  —  as  though  he  were  not  sure  of  you,  in 
some  way,  and  yet —  Oh,  I  cannot  explain  it!  Only 
tell  me  this,  —  does  he  not  ask  you,  many  times  and  oft, 
if  you  love  him,  or  if  others  love  you,  or  such  like?" 

In  the  midst  of  shaking  her  head,  Randalin  paused 
and  her  mouth  became  as  round  as  her  eyes.  "  Fool- 
ishly do  I  recall  it !  As  if  he  would !  And  yet  —  Dear- 
wyn,  he  has  asked  me  four  times  if  any  Danes  visit 
us  here.  Would  you  think  that  he  could  be  — " 

"Jealous?  "  Dearwyn  dropped  her  flowers  to  clap 
her  hands  softly.  "  Tata,  I  have  guessed  his  distemper 
rightly.  Let  no  one  say  that  I  am  not  a  witch  for 
cleverness!  Ah,  you  can  have  the  best  fun  that  ever 
any  maid  could  have!  If  you  could  but  make  him 
believe  something  about  that  Danishman  that  Teboen 
saw  last  winter !  " 

"Last  winter?"  Randalin  repeated.  "Oh!  I  had 
altogether  forgotten  him.  It  seems  that  it  has  not  been 
truthfully  spoken  when  —  " 

The  little  Angle  smothered  the  rest  in  her  rap- 
turous embrace.  "  The  ring,  Tata,  —  that  would  be  the 
cream  of  all!  Let  him  think  that  Rothgar  gave  it  to 
you,  that  he  is  your  lover!  I  would  give  many  kirtles 
to  see  his  face." 

"  Rothgar?  "  Randalin's  voice  was  light  with  scorn. 
"  As  likely  would  I  be  to  think  him  love-struck  for  the 
serving-wench  who  sparkled  her  eyes  at  him,  as  he  to 
think  that  Rothgar  Lodbroksson  could  count  for  aught 

330 


THE   RING   OF   THE   COILED    SNAKE 

with  me!  Yet  I  say  nothing  against  the  fun  it  would 
be.  It  may  be  that  if  he  take  notice  of  the  thing  and 
question  me  —  just  to  see  how  he  would  look  —  "  She 
broke  off  discreetly,  but  the  one  elf  which  the  Abbot 
had  not  exorcised  crept  out  and  danced  in  the  dimple 
of  her  cheek. 

Dearwyn  shook  her  floral  rod  with  an  assumption 
of  severity.  "  I  trust  he  will  be  sorely  disquieted,"  she 
said.  "  He  deserves  no  otherwise  for  his  behavior  last 
winter.  Are  you  so  soft  of  heart,  Tata,  that  you  are 
never  going  to  reckon  with  him  for  that  ?  " 

The  dimple-elf  took  wing  and  all  the  mischief  in 
the  girl's  eyes  seemed  to  go  with  him.  "  Those  days 
are  buried,"  she  said.  "  Let  the  earth  grow  green  above 
them."  And  suddenly  she  leaned  forward  and  hid  her 
face  on  the  other's  shoulder.  "  Bring  them  not  before 
me,  Dearwyn,  my  friend,  until  I  am  a  little  surer  of  my 
happiness.  It  is  so  new  yet,  Dearwyn,  so  new!  And 
it  came  to  me  so  suddenly  that  sometimes  it  almost 
seems  as  if  it  might  depart  as  suddenly  from  me."  A 
while  they  nestled  together  without  speaking,  the  little 
maid's  cheek  resting  lovingly  on  her  friend's  dark  hair. 

It  was  a  page  thrusting  aside  the  arras  that  broke 
the  spell.  Opening  his  mouth  to  make  a  flourishing 
announcement,  the  words  were  checked  on  his  tongue 
by  four  white  hands  motioning  stern  commands  for 
silence. 

"  It  is  the  King's  Marshal,"  he  framed  with  protest- 
ing lips.  But  even  that  failed  to  gain  him  admittance. 

Rising,  flushed  and  smiling,  the  girl  with  the  blue 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

lilies  in  her  hair  tiptoed  toward  him.    "  I  have  orders  to 
receive  the  Marshal,"  she  whispered.    "  Where  is  he?  " 

"  He  is  in  the  Old  Room,"  the  page  answered  rather 
resentfully,  but  resigned  himself  as  he  remembered 
that,  however  this  curtailed  his  importance,  it  left  open 
a  prompter  return  to  his  game  of  leap-frog  along  the 
passage. 

In  all  probability  his  nimble  departure  saved  him 
from  a  scolding  for,  as  she  tripped  after  him  down  the 
corridor,  a  little  frown  was  forming  between  Randalin's 
brows.  "  I  think  it  is  not  well-mannered  of  the  fellow 
to  say  '  the  King's  Marshal '  as  though  my  lord  were 
Canute's  thane,"  she  was  reflecting,  "  and  I  shall  put  an 
end  to  it.  Whatever  others  say,  one  never  needs  to  tell 
me  that  Sebert  is  not  suffering  in  his  service." 

With  this  thought  in  her  mind,  she  raised  the  moth- 
eaten  tapestry  and  stood  looking  at  him  with  a  face  full 
of  generous  indignation.  Except  for  the  noble's  em- 
broidered belt  and  gold-hilted  sword,  his  dress  now 
differed  in  no  way  from  that  of  the  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  red-cloaked  guards  who  were  spread  over  the 
country  like  sparks  after  a  conflagration.  As  he  turned 
at  the  end  of  the  beat  he  was  pacing  and  came  slowly 
toward  her,  she  could  see  that  in  its  gravity  his  face 
was  as  soldier-like  as  his  clothes.  Always  she  found  it 
so  when  she  came  upon  him  unawares;  and  always, 
when  she  spoke  to  him —  She  held  her  breath  as  his 
eyes  rose  to  her,  and  let  it  go  with  a  little  sigh  of 
happiness  as  she  saw  gloom  drop  from  him  like  a  mask 
at  the  sight  of  her. 

332 


THE    RING    OF    THE    COILED    SNAKE 

"  Randalin !  "  he  cried  joyously,  and  made  a  step 
toward  her,  then  stopped  to  laugh  in  gay  wonder. 
"  Now  no  poet  would  call  you  '  a  weaver  of  peace '  as 
you  stand  there,  for  you  look  rather  like  an  elf  of  battle. 
What  is  it,  my  raven?  " 

Her  lips  smiled  back  at  him,  but  a  mist  was  over  her 
eyes.  "  It  is  your  King  that  I  am  angry  with,  lord.  He 
is  not  worthy  that  a  man  like  you  should  serve  him." 

Moving  toward  her  again,  he  held  himself  a  little 
straighten  "  I  serve  not  the  King,  dear  heart,"  he  said 
gently,  "  but  the  State  of  England,  in  whose  service  the 
highest  is  none  too  good  to  bend." 

She  yielded  him  her  hands  but  not  her  point. 
"  That  does  not  change  the  fact  that  it  is  his  overbear- 
ingness  which  makes  your  path  as  though  you  trod  on 
nettles,  —  for  certainly  I  know  it  is  so,  though  you  will 
not  say  it !  " 

Neither  would  he  admit  it  now,  but  laughed  lightly 
as  he  drew  her  to  him.  "  Now  may  he  not  give  me 
thorns  who  gives  me  also  the  sweetest  rose  in  his  king- 
dom? I  tell  you  he  is  the  kingliest  king  ever  I  had  to 
deal  with,  and  the  chief  I  would  soonest  trust  England 
to.  Be  no  Danish  rebel,  shield-maiden,  or  as  the  King's 
officer  I  will  mulct  your  lips  for  every  word  of  treason." 

She  showed  no  rebellion  against  his  authority,  at  all 
events ;  and  her  hands  remained  in  his  clasp  until  of  his 
own  accord  he  opened  his  fingers  with  an  exclamation. 

"  Do  you  wear  bracelets  for  rings,  my  fair,  or  what? 
What  I"  From  the  monstrous  bauble  in  his  palm,  he 
raised  his  eyes  to  hers,  and  if  she  had  seen  their  look 

333 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

she  might  have  answered  differently.  But  her  gaze 
was  still  on  the  ring;  and  as  she  felt  him  start,  that 
impish  dimple  peeped  out  of  her  cheek. 

"  Is  it  not  a  handsome  thing?  "  she  said.  "  It  looks 
to  be  a  ring  to  belong  to  a  giant." 

"Is  it  — Rothgar's?" 

The  dimple  deepened  as  she  heard  his  tone.  For 
all  its  absurdity,  there  must  be  some  truth  in  Dearwyn's 
witch-skill.  She  was  obliged  to  droop  her  lashes  very 
low  to  hide  the  mischief  in  her  eyes.  "  It  is  not  his 
now,"  she  murmured.  "  It  has  been  given  me  —  to  keep 
me  in  mind  of  something."  But  after  that  her  amuse- 
ment grew  too  strong  to  be  repressed,  and  she  looked 
up  at  him  with  over-brimming  laughter.  "  There  will 
soon  be  too  much  of  this!  Sweetheart  mine,  are  you 
in  truth  so  easy  to  plague?  " 

Laughing  she  looked  up  at  him,  but,  even  as 
his  face  was  clearing,  something  in  it  struck  her  so 
strangely  that  her  laughter  died  and  she  bent  toward 
him  in  sudden  gravity.  "  Lord !  It  is  not  possible  for 
you  to  believe  that  I  could  love  Rothgar !  "  Her  manner 
of  uttering  that  one  word  made  it  speak  more  scorn 
than  volumes  might  have  done. 

For  a  while  he  only  looked  at  her,  that  strange 
radiance  growing  in  his  face;  but  suddenly  he  caught 
her  to  him  and  kissed  her  so  passionately  that  he 
hurt  her,  and  his  voice  was  as  passionate  as  his 
caress.  "  No,"  he  told  her  over  and  over.  "  Would 
I  have  offered  you  my  love  had  I  believed  that?  No! 
No!" 

334 


THE   RING   OF   THE    COILED    SNAKE 

Satisfied,  she  made  no  more  resistance  but  clung  to 
him  with  her  arms  as  she  had  clung  to  him  with  her 
heart  since  the  first  hour  he  came  into  her  life.  Only, 
when  at  last  he  released  her,  she  took  the  ring  from  her 
finger  and  thrust  it  into  his  hand  with  a  little  gesture 
of  distaste.  "  I  shall  be  thankful  if  I  do  not  have  to  see 
it  again.  It  is  Elfgiva's,  that  Canute  gave  her  after  he 
had  won  it  from  Rothgar  in  some  wager.  It  is  her  wish 
that  you  bring  it  to  the  King  again  by  slipping  it  into 
his  broth  or  his  wine  where  he  will  come  upon  it  after 
he  has  finished  feeding  and  is  therefore  amiable  — " 
She  stopped  to  laugh  merrily  in  his  face.  "  See  how  the 
very  naming  of  the  King  turns  you  grave  again !  When 
one  gets  a  Marshalship,  one  becomes  more  and  more 
stark."  Grown  mischievous  again  in  her  happiness,  she 
mocked  him  with  courtesies. 

But  it  was  only  very  faintly  that  he  smiled  at  her 
fooling,  as  he  held  the  spiral  against  the  light  and  shook 
it  beside  his  ear.  "  Is  there  no  more  to  the  message," 
he  said  slowly.  "  Am  I  to  know  nothing  of  her  object? 
Or  why  I  am  chosen  of  all  others?  " 

"  Easy  is  it  to  tell  that,"  she  laughed.  "  You  were 
not  chosen  without  a  reason,  and  that  is  because  no  one 
else  is  to  be  had,  since  the  scullion  who  formerly  served 
her  has  gotten  himself  killed  in  some  way  and  the  man 
who  stepped  into  his  shoes,  out  of  some  spite,  has  re- 
fused Teboen's  gold.  And  as  for  her  object  —  I  wonder 
at  you,  lord  of  my  heart !  What  kind  of  a  lover  are  you 
that  you  cannot  guess  that?  "  Feigning  to  flout  him, 
she  drew  away;  then  feigning  to  relent,  turned  back 

335 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

and  laughed  it  into  his  ear.  "  It  is  a  love-token !  To 
hold  him  to  the  fair  promises  he  made  at  its  giving, 
and  to  remind  him  of  her,  and  to  win  her  a  crown,  and 
to  do  so  many  strange  wonders  that  no  tongue  can 
number  them!  Are  you  not  ashamed  to  have  failed  on 
so  easy  a  riddle?  " 

To  her  surprise,  his  gravity  deepened  almost  to 
horror.  "  Love-token !  "  he  repeated ;  and  suddenly  he 
laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  forced  her  gently 
to  give  him  eye  for  eye.  "  Randalin,  if  I  comply  with 
you  in  this  matter,  will  you  answer  me  a  question? 
Answer  with  such  care  as  though  your  life  —  nay,  as 
though  my  life  depended  on  it?  " 

"  Willingly ;  more  than  one,"  she  consented ;  but 
forgot  to  wait  for  it  as  a  memory,  wakened  by  his  words, 
stirred  in  her.  "  Now  it  is  time  for  me  to  remember 
that  there  is  one  thing  I  have  not  been  altogether  truth- 
ful about,  through  forgetting,  —  about  the  Danes  we 
have  seen.  I  recall  now  that  last  winter  Teboen  often 
saw  one  when  she  was  gathering  herbs  in  the  wood. 
She  spoke  with  him  of  the  magic  things  she  brews  to 
make  Elfgiva  sleep,  and  he  gave  her  herbs  which  she 
thought  so  useful  that  she  has  been  fretful  because  she 
has  not  seen  him  since  —  " 

Unconsciously,  the  young  soldier's  hands  tightened 
on  her  shoulders  until  she  winced.  "  You  know  with 
certainty  that  she  has  never  seen  him  since?"  he  de- 
manded, — "  that  Danes  had  naught  to  do  with  the 
last  token  Elfgiva  sent  through  the  scullion?  You  can 
swear  to  it?  " 

336 


THE   RING   OF   THE   COILED    SNAKE 

"  Certainly,  if  they  speak  the  truth,  I  know  it,"  she 
answered  wonderingly.  "  How  should  Danes  —  why, 
Sebert,  what  ails  you?  " 

For  he  had  let  go  her  shoulders  as  abruptly  as  he 
had  seized  them,  and  walked  away  to  the  window  that 
looked  out  upon  the  rain-washed  garden.  After  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  she  stole  after  him.  "  Sebert,  my  love, 
what  is  it?  Trouble  is  in  your  mind,  there  is  little  use 
to  deny  it.  Dearwyn  says  it  concerns  me,  but  I  know 
that  it  is  no  less  than  the  King.  Dear  one,  it  seems 
strange  that  you  cannot  disclose  your  mind  to  me  as 
well  as  to  —  Fridtjof." 

It  was  the  first  time,  in  their  brief  meetings  to- 
gether, that  she  had  spoken  that  name,  and  his  smile 
answered.  Even  while  his  lips  admitted  a  trouble,  his 
manner  put  it  aside.  "  You  are  right  that  it  concerns 
the  King,  my  elf.  Sometimes  the  work  he  assigns  me 
is  neither  easy  nor  pleasant  to  accomplish.  Yet  with- 
out any  blame  to  him,  most  warlike  maiden,  for  —  " 

But  she  would  not  be  prevented  from  saying  stern 
things  of  her  royal  guardian,  so  at  last  he  let  her  finish 
the  subject,  and  stood  pressing  her  hands  upon  his 
breast,  his  eyes  resting  dreamily  on  her  face. 

When  she  had  finished,  he  said  slowly,  "  Sweeting, 
because  my  mind  is  laboring  under  so  many  burdens 
that  my  wits  are  even  duller  than  they  are  wont,  will 
you  not  have  the  patience  to  answer  one  question  that 
is  not  clear  to  me?  Do  you  think  it  troublesome  to  tell 
me  why  it  was  that  you  said,  that  day  in  the  garden  — 
Now  shake  off  that  look,  dearest;  never  will  we  speak 

22  337 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

of  it  again  if  it  is  not  to  your  wish !  Tell  me  what  you 
meant  by  saying  that  you  came  into  Canute's  camp 
because  you  had  too  much  faith  in  Rothgar,  if  you 
despise  him  —  since  you  despise  him  so?" 

Her  eyes  met  his  wonderingly.  "  By  no  means 
could  I  have  said  that,  lord.  When  I  left  home,  I  knew 
not  that  Rothgar  lived.  The  one  in  whom  I  had  too 
much  faith  was  the  King.  Because  I  was  young  and 
little  experienced,  I  thought  him  a  god;  and  when  I 
came  to  his  camp  and  found  him  a  man,  I  thought 
only  to  escape  from  him.  That  was  why  I  wore  those 
clothes,  Sebert  —  not  because  I  liked  so  wild  a  life. 
That  is  clear  to  you,  is  it  not?  " 

He  did  not  appear  to  hear  her  last  words  at  all. 
He  was  repeating  over  and  over,  "  The  King,  the 
King!"  Suddenly  he  said,  "Then  I  got  that  right, 
that  it  was  he  who  summoned  me  to  Gloucester  to 
make  sure  that  you  had  kept  your  secret  from  me  also? 
—  that  he  was  angry  with  you  for  deceiving  him?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  But  as  he  opened  his  lips  to  put 
another  question,  she  laid  her  finger-tip  beseechingly 
upon  them,  "  Sebert,  my  love,  I  beg  of  you  let  us  talk 
no  more  of  those  days.  Sometime,  when  we  have  a  long 
time  to  be  together,  I  will  tell  you  everything  that  I 
have  had  in  my  breast  and  you  shall  show  me  every- 
thing that  you  have  had  in  yours,  but  —  but  let  us 
wait,  sweetheart,  until  our  happiness  seems  more  real 
than  our  sorrow.  Even  yet  I  do  not  like  the  thought 
of  the  '  sun-browned  boy-bred  wench.' "  She  laughed 
a  little  unsteadily  at  the  sudden  crimsoning  of  his 

338 


THE   RING   OF   THE   COILED   SNAKE 

face.  "  And  I  am  still  ashamed  —  and  ashamed  of  being 
ashamed  —  that  I  showed  you  so  plainly  what  my  heart 
held  for  you  .  .  .  Elfgiva's  tongue  has  stabbed  me  sore 
.  .  .  Beloved,  can  you  not  be  content,  for  now,  with 
knowing  that  I  have  loved  no  man  before  you  and  shall 
love  none  after  you?  " 

Bending,  he  kissed  her  lips  with  the  utmost  ten- 
derness. "  I  am  well  content,"  he  said.  And  after  that 
they  spoke  only  of  the  future,  when  the  first  period  of 
his  Marshalship  should  be  over  and  he  should  be  free 
to  take  his  bride  back  to  the  fields  and  woods  of  Ivars- 
dale,  and  the  gray  old  Tower  on  the  hill. 


339 


CHAPTER   XXX 


WHEN    THE    KING   TAKES   A   QUEEN 

Moderately  wise 

Should  each  one  be, 

But  never  over-wise ; 

For  a  wise  man's  heart 

Is  seldom  glad 

If  he  is  all-wise  who  owns  it. 

HAVAMAL. 

UT  under  the  garden's 
spreading  fruit  trees,  the 
little  gentlewomen  of  Elf- 
giva's  household  were  amus- 
ing themselves  with  the 
flock  of  peacocks  that  were 
the  Abbey's  pets.  In  a  shift- 
ing dazzling  mass  of  color — 
blended  blue  and  green  and 
golden  fire  —  all  but  one  of 
the  brilliant  birds  were  pressing  around  Candida,  who 
scattered  largess  from  a  quaint  bronze  vase,  while  the 
one  whose  vanity  was  greater  even  than  its  appetite 
was  furnishing  sport  for  Dearwyn  as  she  strutted  after 
him  in  merry  mimicry,  lifting  her  satin-shod  feet  minc- 
ingly  and  trailing  her  rosy  robes  far  behind  her  on  the 
grass.  The  old  cellarer,  to  whose  care  the  birds  fell 

340 


WHEN    THE    KING   TAKES    A    QUEEN 

except  during  those  hours  when  the  brethren  were  free 
for  such  indulgences,  watched  the  scene  in  grinning 
delight;  and  Leonorine  laughed  gaily  at  them  over  the 
armful  of  tiny  bobbing  lap-dogs,  whose  valiant  charges 
she  was  engaged  in  restraining.  The  only  person  who 
seemed  out  of  tune  with  the  chiming  mirth  was  the 
Lady  Elfgiva  herself.  Among  the  blooming  bushes  she 
was  moving  listlessly  and  yet  restlessly,  and  each  rose 
she  plucked  was  speedily  pulled  to  pieces  in  her  nervous 
fingers.  A  particularly  furious  outburst  from  the  dogs, 
followed  by  peals  of  ringing  laughter,  brought  her  foot 
down  in  a  stamp  of  utter  exasperation. 

"  Will  you  not  observe  my  feelings,  if  you  have 
none  of  your  own?  "  she  demanded.  "  Leonorine,  take 
those  wretched  dogs  out  of  my  hearing.  Dearwyn,  lay 
aside  your  nonsense  and  go  ask  Gurth  if  he  has  heard 
anything  yet  of  Teboen."  She  stamped  again,  angrily, 
as  her  eye  went  from  one  to  another  of  the  merry- 
makers. "  I  suppose  it  would  gladden  all  of  you  to 
feel  safe  from  her  hand,  but  I  will  plainly  tell  you  that 
if  harm  has  happened  to  her,  you  will  find  a  lair-bear 
pleasanter  company  than  I  shall  be." 

The  dull  red  that  mottled  her  face  and  neck  was  a 
danger  signal  whose  warning  her  attendants  had  learned 
to  heed,  and  they  scattered  precipitately.  Only  the  old 
cellarer,  herding  his  gorgeous  flock  with  waving  arms, 
ventured  to  address  her. 

"  Is  it  the  British  woman  you  are  enquiring  after, 
lady?  The  woman  who  comes  to  the  lane-gate,  of  a 
morning,  to  get  new  milk  for  your  drinking?" 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Elfgiva  turned  quickly.  "  Yes, — Teboen  my  nurse. 
Have  you  seen  her?  " 

"  I  saw  her  between  cockcrowing  and  dawn,  noble 
one,  when  I  let  down  the  bars  for  the  cattle  to  come  in 
to  the  milking.  The  herd-boy  who  drives  them  said 
something  to  her,  —  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  named  a 
Danish  name  and  said  that  person  was  waiting  in  the 
wood  to  speak  with  her,  —  whereat  she  set  down  her 
pitcher  and  went  up  the  lane.  I  have  not  seen  her 
since." 

The  lady's  little  white  hands  beat  the  air  like  a 
frightened  child's.  "  Three  candles  have  burned  out 
since  then;  it  is  certain  that  evil  has  befallen  her. 
Never  since  I  was  born  has  she  left  me  for  so  long. 
I  —  "  She  paused  to  gaze  eagerly  toward  a  figure  that 
at  this  moment  appeared  in  the  low  arch  of  the  door- 
way. "  Tata!  do  you  bring  me  news  of  her?  " 

Though  she  shook  her  head,  Randalin's  manner 
was  full  of  suppressed  excitement  as  she  advanced. 
"  Not  of  her,  lady,  yet  tidings,  great  tidings !  The 
King  has  sent  —  " 

"  His  Marshal  again?    I  will  not  see  him." 

"  Nay,  the  Marshal  but  accompanies  the  messen- 
ger. In  truth,  lady,  it  is  my  belief  that  the  token  has 
accomplished  its  mission.  The  message  is  brought  by 
Thorkel  Jarl,  as  this  has  not  been  done  before." 

"Earl  Thorkel?"  Elfgiva  cried.  "By  the  Saints, 
it  can  be  nothing  less  than  the  token !  "  She  dropped 
down  upon  the  rustic  seat  that  stood  under  the  green 
canopy  of  the  old  apple  tree  and  sat  there  a  long  time, 

342 


WHEN    THE    KING   TAKES    A    QUEEN 

staring  at  the  grass,  her  cheeks  paling  and  flushing  by 
turns.  Presently,  she  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  "  I 
was  foolish  to  fret  myself  over  Teboen.  Since  she  is 
clever  enough  to  bring  this  to  pass,  she  is  clever  enough 
to  take  care  of  herself.  Without  doubt  it  was  the 
Danish  wizard,  and  he  informed  her  of  some  new  herb, 
and  she  has  gone  to  fetch  it." 

After  a  while,  an  enchanting  smile  touched  her  lips. 
"  Surely,  a  rose  garden  is  a  fitting  place  to  receive  the 
ambassadors  of  a  lover,"  she  said,  and  straightened 
herself  on  her  rustic  throne,  sweeping  her  draperies 
into  more  graceful  folds.  "  Bring  them  to  me  here, 
ladybird.  Candida,  fetch  hither  the  lace  veil  from  my 
bower,  and  call  the  other  maids  as  you  go,  and  all  the 
pages  you  can  find.  Since  Teboen  is  not  by,  I  want 
all  of  you  behind  me.  I  cannot  help  it  that  the  Tall 
One  always  gives  me  the  feeling  of  a  lamb  before  a 
wolf." 

Even  had  the  likeness  never  occurred  to  her  before, 
it  would  not  have  been  strange  if  she  had  thought  of  it 
to-day  as,  followed  by  the  Marshal  and  preceded  by 
their  fair  usher,  the  old  warrior  came  across  the  grass 
to  the  little  court  under  the  apple  tree.  The  keenness 
of  the  hooded  eyes  that  looked  out  at  her  from  his 
grizzled  locks,  the  gleam  of  the  white  teeth  between  his 
bearded  lips  as  he  greeted  her,  was  unmistakably  wolf- 
ish. She  relapsed  into  a  kind  of  lamb-like  tremor  as  she 
invited  them  to  be  seated  and  commanded  the  attend- 
ance of  her  cup-bearer.  When  she  caught  sight  of  the 
misery  of  discomfort  in  Sebert's  frank  face,  she  lost 

343 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

her  voice  entirely  and  waited  in  utter  silence  while 
they  drank  their  wine. 

Yet  Thorkel's  manner  was  unwontedly  genial  when 
at  last  he  broached  his  errand.  "  You  lack  the  eagerness 
that  is  to  be  expected,  lady,"  he  said  as  he  gave  his 
mouth  a  last  polish  with  the  delicate  napkin.  "  How 
comes  it  that  you  have  not  guessed  I  bring  you  a  mes- 
sage from  the  King?" 

She  answered  doubtfully  that  the  King  had  not 
behaved  to  her  so  that  his  messages  were  apt  to  be  an- 
ticipated with  much  pleasure. 

"  But  it  has  never  occurred  that  I  brought  you  this 
kind  of  news  before,"  he  tempted  her.  "  Will  it  not 
interest  you  to  hear  that  at  last  the  Palace  is  ready  for 
a  Queen?  " 

That  startled  her  a  little  out  of  her  wariness,  crying 
the  last  two  words  after  him  with  an  eagerness  of  in- 
flection that  was  as  pathetic  as  though  her  heart  were 
concerned. 

His  lips  gave  out  a  flash  as  he  nodded.  "  A  Queen. 
Canute  is  going  to  give  the  Angles  a  '  gift  of  the  elves.'  " 

For  an  instant,  she  was  betrayed  into  believing  him, 
and  bent  forward,  her  flushing  face  transfigured  with 
delight.  She  was  starting  to  speak  when  the  Etheling 
rose  abruptly  from  his  seat. 

"  Lord  Thorkel,"  he  said  angrily,  "  this  cat-play 
would  bring  you  little  thanks  from  your  King,  nor  will 
I  longer  endure  it.  I  pray  you  to  explain  without  delay 
that  the  name  of  *  Elfgiva '  is  borne  also  by  Emma  of 
Normandy." 

344 


WHEN    THE    KING   TAKES    A    QUEEN 

Then  the  old  man  snarled  as  a  wolf  does  whose 
bone  has  been  seized.  "  Lord  of  Ivarsdale,  you  act  in 
the  thoughtless  way  of  youth.  I  was  bringing  the 
matter  gently  —  " 

But  the  young  man  accomplished  his  purpose  in 
spite  of  the  elder.  He  did  not  address  the  King's  wife 
—  indeed,  he  refrained  even  from  looking  at  her  —  but 
he  spoke  swiftly  to  the  dark-haired  girl  who  stood 
beside  the  seat.  "  Randalin,  I  beg  you  to  tell  your  lady 
that  Elfgiva  Emma,  who  is  Ethelred's  widow  and  the 
Lady  of  Normandy,  arrives  at  Dover  to-morrow  to  be 
made  Queen  of  the  English." 

As  all  expected,  the  Lady  of  Northampton  started 
up  shrieking  defiance,  screaming  that  it  should  not  be 
so,  that  the  King  was  her  husband  and  the  soldiers 
would  support  her  if  the  monks  would  not,  that  he  was 
hers,  hers,  —  and  more  to  that  effect,  until  the  plunging 
words  ran  into  each  other  and  tears  and  laughter  blotted 
out  the  last  semblance  of  speech.  That  she  would  end 
by  swooning  or  attacking  them  with  her  hands  those 
who  knew  her  best  felt  sure,  and  maids  and  pages  crept 
out  of  her  reach  as  hunters  stand  off  from  a  wounded 
boar.  But  at  the  point  where  her  voice  gave  out  and 
she  whirled  to  do  one  or  perhaps  both  of  these,  her  eyes 
fell  on  the  house-door,  and  her  expression  changed  from 
rage  to  amazement  and  from  amazement  to  horror. 
Catching  Randalin's  arm  in  fear,  not  anger,  she  began 
to  gasp  over  and  over  the  name  of  Teboen  the  nurse. 

Those  whose  glance  had  not  followed  hers,  thought 
her  mad  and  shrank  farther ;  but  the  eyes  of  those  who 

345 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

saw  what  she  did  reflected  her  look.  In  the  doorway 
the  British  woman  was  standing,  wagging  her  head  in 
time  to  a  silly  quavering  song  that  she  was  singing  with 
lips  so  distorted  as  to  be  almost  unrecognizable.  Her 
once  florid  face  was  ashen  gray,  and  now  as  she  quitted 
the  door  post  and  came  toward  them  she  reeled  in  her 
walk,  stumbling  over  stones  and  groping  blindly  with 
her  huge  bony  hands.  But  still  she  kept  on  singing, 
with  twisted  lips  that  strove  to  simper,  and  once  she 
tried  to  sway  her  ungainly  body  into  an  uncouth 
dancing-step  that  brought  her  floundering  to  her  knees. 

"  A  devil  has  possession  of  her,"  Elfgiva  shrieked. 
"  Take  her  out  of  my  sight,  or  I  shall  go  mad !  Take 
her  away  —  take  her  away !  "  Shrieking  in  wildest 
terror  she  fled  before  her,  and  for  a  moment  the  garden 
seemed  given  over  to  a  grotesque  game  of  blind-man's 
buff  as  women  and  boys  scattered  with  renewed  scream- 
ing at  each  approach  of  the  ghastly  face.  It  did  not 
stop  until  the  two  soldiers  who  had  been  made  keepers 
of  the  wretched  creature  came  running  out  of  the  house 
and  led  her  away. 

Then  it  was  Thorkel's  sardonic  voice  that  brought 
the  Lady  of  Northampton  back  to  herself.  "  Now,  is 
this  how  you  take  the  sight  of  your  own  handiwork? 
Or  is  it  because  you  regret  that  the  King  is  not  in  this 
plight?  One  mouthful  and  no  more  has  she  had  of  the 
blood  of  the  coiled  snake." 

Stopping  where  she  was,  Elfgiva  gazed  at  him,  and 
with  a  dawning  comprehension  came  back  her  inter- 
rupted fury.  "  The  coiled  snake,"  she  repeated  slowly ; 

346 


WHEN    THE    KING   TAKES    A    QUEEN 

and  after  that,  in  a  rush  of  words,  "  Then  it  was  you 
who  enticed  her  away  and  mistreated  her?  But  what 
does  it  concern  you  that  I  sent  a  snake?  Where  saw 
you  it?  How  knew  you  it  had  blood?  "  Without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer,  she  turned  upon  the  Marshal,  her 
lids  contracted  into  narrow  slits  behind  which  her  eyes 
raged  like  prisoned  animals.  "  It  is  you  who  are  to 
blame  for  this !  You  who  miscarried  my  message.  You 
have  betrayed  me,  and  I  tell  you  —  "  Hysterical  tears 
broke  her  voice,  but  she  pieced  it  together  with  her 
temper  and  went  on  telling  him  all  the  bitter  things  she 
could  think  of,  while  he  stood  before  her  in  the  grim 
silence  of  one  who  has  long  foreseen  the  disagreeable 
aspects  of  his  undertaking  and  made  up  his  mind  to 
endurance. 

When  she  stopped  for  breath,  he  said  steadily,  "  I 
declare  with  truth  that  you  cannot  dislike  what  I  have 
done  much  more  than  I,  Lady  of  Northampton.  I  hope 
it  will  be  an  excuse  with  you,  as  it  is  a  comfort  to  me, 
that  instead  of  fetching  you  into  trouble  — " 

Thorkel  took  the  words  from  his  lips,  and  no  longer 
with  sinister  deliberation  but  with  a  ferocity  that 
showed  itself  in  the  gathering  swiftness  of  his  speech. 
"  Trouble  —  yes !  By  the  Hammer  of  Thor,  I  think  you 
deserve  to  have  trouble!  Had  any  of  your  witches' 
brew  done  harm  to  the  King,  I  can  tell  you  that  you 
would  not  have  lived  much  longer.  What!  Are  the 
plans  of  men  to  be  upset  by  your  baby  face,  and  a  king- 
dom lost  because  a  little  fool  chooses  to  play  with 
poison  as  a  child  with  fire?" 

347 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

"  Poison?  "  she  screamed.  She  had  been  facing  him 
with  whitening  lips,  and  now  the  little  breath  that  she 
had  left  went  from  her  in  a  sharp  cry.  "  Not  poison ; 
love-philtres !  To  win  him  back !  Love-philtres,  —  can 
you  not  hear?  " 

"  Love-philtres !  "  The  old  warrior's  voice  made 
the  words  bite  with  contempt.  "  Did  the  mouthful 
she  swallowed  have  that  effect  upon  your  woman? 
Or  do  you  think  you  planted  love  in  the  breasts 
of  the  dead  scullions?  Had  you  seen  their  writh- 
ings  I  think  you  would  have  called  it  by  another 
name." 

He  was  standing  over  her  now,  and  she  was  cower- 
ing before  him,  her  shaking  hands  rising  as  though  to 
ward  off  his  eyes.  "  I  meant  no  harm,"  she  was  wail- 
ing with  stiff  lips.  "  The  scroll  said  not  a  word  that  it 
was  hurtful.  Do  not  kill  me.  I  meant  no  — "  The 
word  ended  in  an  inarticulate  sound  and  she  swayed 
backward. 

It  was  Randalin  who  caught  and  eased  her  down 
upon  the  rustic  chair,  and  Randalin  who  turned  upon 
the  Tall  One.  "  Saw  I  never  a  meaner  man !  "  she  cried. 
"  Certainly  I  think  Loke  was  less  wolf-minded  than  you. 
You  know  very  well  that  if  Teboen  had  thought  it 
would  become  a  cause  of  harm  to  her,  she  would  have 
refused  to  swallow  it.  I  will  go  to  the  King  myself  and 
tell  him  how  despisable  you  are."  She  stamped  her  foot 
at  the  united  ministry  of  the  Kingdom  as  she  turned 
her  back  upon  its  representatives  to  speak  reassuringly 
to  her  mistress. 

348 


WHEN   THE    KING   TAKES   A   QUEEN 

Her  lover  did  not  blame  her  that  her  flashing  eyes 
seemed  to  include  him  among  the  objects  of  their  wrath. 
He  said  fiercely  to  the  Jarl,  "  For  God's  sake,  tell  her 
that  no  one  suspects  her  of  seeking  his  life,  and  give 
her  his  true  message,  or  I  will  go  and  hang  myself  for 
loathing." 

"Tell  her  yourself!"  the  old  Dane  snapped.  "It 
is  seen  that  you  are  as  rabbit-hearted  as  the  boy  who 
makes  her  such  an  offer.  Were  I  in  his  place,  I  would 
have  them  all  drowned  for  a  litter  of  wauling  kittens." 
He  looked  very  much  indeed  like  a  wolf  in  a  sheepfold 
as  he  stamped  to  and  fro,  grinding  his  spurred  heels 
into  the  patches  of  clover  and  growling  in  his  beard. 

The  young  soldier  had  been  known  to  ride  into 
battle  with  a  happier  face,  but  the  sudden  gritting  of 
his  teeth  implied  that  he  would  do  anything  to  get  the 
matter  over  with;  and  having  braved  the  outburst  of 
hysterics  that  redoubled  at  his  approach,  he  managed 
to  slip  a  soothing  word  into  the  lull. 

"  Lady,  the  King  sends  you  none  but  good  greet- 
ings. It  would  make  you  feel  better  if  you  would  listen 
to  them." 

"  Then  he  —  he  does  not  blame  me  for  this?  "  Elf- 
giva  quavered  at  last. 

"  He  does  not  blame  you,"  the  Marshal  hastened  to 
reassure  her.  "  And  in  token  thereof  he  sends  you 
your  heart's  desire." 

Plainly,  the  elves  had  endowed  their  "  gift "  with  a 
wit  to  match  her  soul.  Her  beautiful  eyes  were  simple 
as  an  injured  child's  as  she  raised  them  to  his.  "  How 

349 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

can  that  be,  lord,  when  Emma  of  Normandy  is  to  get 
the  crown  of  England?  A  woman  ten  years  older 
than  he,  to  put  the  best  face  on  it!  Who  can  expect 
me  to  bear  with  this  insult?"  Her  scorn  went  so  far 
toward  reviving  her  that  for  the  first  time  she  drew 
herself  away  from  the  support  of  her  women,  and  even 
made  one  of  them  a  sign  to  rearrange  the  locks  she  had 
disturbed. 

Lest  it  revive  her  beyond  the  point  of  docility, 
Sebert  spoke  the  rest  of  his  message  in  some  haste.  "  It 
is  true,  noble  one,  that  for  state  reasons  the  King  has 
consented  to  this  union  with  Emma  of  Normandy,  who 
will  bring  him  the  friendship  of  Duke  Richard  besides 
causing  pleasure  to  the  English.  But  the  crown  of 
Denmark  is  also  at  his  disposal,  lady,  and  this  he  pur- 
poses to  bestow  upon  your  son  Sven,  for  whom  he 
has  much  love.  And  it  is  his  will  and  pleasure  that  you 
accompany  the  boy  across  the  sea  and,  together  with 
the  earls  of  his  guardianship,  hold  the  power  for  him 
until  his  hands  shall  be  big  enough  to  grasp  it  alone. 
For  this  he  gives  you  the  name  of  '  queen '  and  all  the 
honor  you  shall  desire."  He  paused,  more  at  the 
wonder  of  watching  her  face  than  because  he  had 
finished. 

It  was  as  though  a  rainbow  had  been  set  in  her 
showery  eyes.  "He  purposes  this?"  she  murmured; 
and  rose  out  of  her  seat  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy,  —  then 
caught  at  its  back,  glooming  with  doubt.  "  I  cannot 
believe  it,  —  it  is  too  beautiful.  Swear  that  you  are 
not  mocking  me." 

35° 


WHEN   THE    KING   TAKES   A   QUEEN 

"I  swear  it,"  he  said  gravely,  but  his  lips  curled 
a  little  as  he  watched  her  delight  bring  back  her  color, 
her  smiles,  her  every  fairy  charm. 

Throwing  her  arms  about  Dearwyn,  who  chanced 
to  be  nearest,  she  kissed  her  repeatedly.  "  Think, 
mouse,  —  a  queen !  a  queen !  It  was  not  for  naught 
that  I  dreamed  an  eagle  flew  over  my  head.  Ah,  how 
I  shall  cherish  the  dear  little  one  who  has  brought  me 
this ! "  With  her  pleasure  overflowing  as  of  old  in 
rippling  laughter,  she  turned  to  greet  the  King's  foster- 
father  who  came  stalking  toward  her.  "  Now  your  ill 
humor  no  longer  appears  strange  to  me,  noble  wolf,  — 
than  which  no  better  proof  could  be  had  that  I  have 
come  into  good  fortune!  I  pray  you  tell  me  when  I 
am  to  leave,  and  who  goes  with  me,  and  every  word 
of  the  plan,  for  I  could  eat  them  like  sweets." 

"  Ulf  Jarl  will  feed  your  ears  later,"  Thorkel  said 
gruffly.  "  Your  safety  on  the  road  is  the  charge  of  this 
battle-sapling."  He  jerked  his  head  toward  the  young 
Marshal.  "  You  will  leave  for  Northampton  this  after- 
noon, to  get  the  boy  —  and  to  get  rid  of  you  before  the 
Lady  of  Normandy  arrives." 

The  shaft  fell  pointless  as  she  turned  her  sparkling 
face  toward  her  women.  "  You  hear  that,  my  lambs  ? 
This  afternoon,  —  not  one  more  night  in  this  prison ! 
You  cannot  apply  yourselves  too  soon  to  the  packing, 
Candida,  Leonorine.  And  I  must  see  if  Teboen's  wits 
have  come  back  to  her.  If  she  should  not  be  restored 
to  them,  that  would  be  one  bee  in  the  honey.  Randalin, 
learn  what  disposal  is  to  be  made  of  you,  and  that, 

3S1 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

quickly.  Nobles,  if  I  am  not  yet  enough  queen  to  dis- 
miss you,  still  am  I  queen  enough  to  depart  without 
your  leave.  I  desire  you  will  thank  your  King  as  is 
becoming ;  and  tell  him  that  I  am  right  glad  he  was  not 
poisoned,  —  and  I  trust  he  will  not  wish  he  had  been, 
after  he  has  seen  his  ancient  bride."  Chiming  the  sweet 
bells  of  her  laughter,  she  glided  away  among  her  excited 
attendants,  the  silver  mockery  reaching  them  after  she 
had  vanished  into  the  house. 

Randalin  awoke  to  a  sense  of  bewilderment.  "  It 
is  true  that  I  do  not  know  where  to  go,  now  that  this 
place  is  upset." 

The  question  was  repeated  in  her  lover's  attitude; 
but  Thorkel  Jarl  answered  it,  coming  between  them  and 
drawing  her  aside. 

"  I  will  remedy  that,"  he  said.  "  My  men  are  to 
fetch  you  to  the  Palace  so  soon  as  ever  your  lady  has 
left.  The  King  has  a  use  for  you."  The  rest  he  spoke 
into  her  ear,  but  its  effect  was  to  blanch  her  cheeks  and 
cause  her  hands  to  clasp  each  other  in  terror  as  she 
started  back. 

"  I  cannot !  "  she  cried.    "  I  cannot." 

"  You  must,"  he  said  harshly.  "  Or  you  will 
do  little  credit  to  the  blood  that  is  in  you.  Do 
you  no  longer  think  your  father  and  brother  of  any 
importance?  " 

"  They  are  pitiless  to  demand  it  of  me,"  she  mur- 
mured, and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Anger  leaped  from  the  young  noble's  eyes  as,  in 
his  turn,  he  came  between  her  and  the  Jarl.  He  said 

352 


WHEN    THE    KING   TAKES    A    QUEEN 

forcefully,  "  No  one  shall  ask  anything  of  you  that  you 
do  not  want,  nor  shall  any  king  compel  you.  Yet  I 
think  I  have  a  right  to  know  what  his  will  is  with  you." 

"  You  have  not,"  the  Dane  contradicted.  "  Do  you 
think  the  King's  purposes  are  to  be  opened  to  the  sight 
of  every  Angle  who  becomes  his  man?  Nor  have  you 
any  right  soever  over  her  who  is  the  King's  ward.  End 
this  talk,  maiden,  and  give  me  your  promise  to  be 
obedient." 

She  gave  it  in  a  cry  of  despair,  "  I  must  —  I  know 
I  must !  "  then  sought  to  make  peace  with  her  lover  by 
laying  caressing  hands  on  his  breast.  "  And  he  is 
right,  love,  that  I  ought  not  to  tell  any  one.  It  is 
another  one  of  those  things  that  you  must  trust." 

But  for  once  the  Etheling's  will  did  not  bend  to 
her  coaxing;  his  mouth  was  doggedly  set  as  he  looked 
down  upon  her.  "  I  trust  no  man  I  do  not  know,"  he 
answered,  "  and  I  do  not  know  Canute  the  man,  —  nor 
do  I  greatly  like  what  I  have  heard  of  him,  or  this  plan 
of  sending  me  from  the  City  at  this  time.  You  have  no 
cause  to  reproach  me  with  lack  of  faith  in  you,  Ran- 
dalin,  for  when  every  happening  —  even  your  own 
words  —  made  it  appear  as  if  it  were  love  for  Rothgar 
Lodbroksson  which  brought  you  into  the  camp,  I  looked 
into  your  eyes  and  believed  them  against  all  else."  In 
the  intensity  of  the  living  present  he  forgot  the  dead 
past  —  until  he  saw  its  ghosts  troop  like  gray  shadows 
across  her  face. 

"  Love  for  Rothgar  Lodbroksson  ?  "  she  repeated, 
drawing  back.  "  Then  you  did  believe  that  I  could  love 

23  353 


THE   WARD    OF   KING    CANUTE 

Rothgar?"  Her  voice  rose  sharply.  "You  believed 
that  I  followed  him!" 

Too  late  he  saw  what  he  had  done.  "  I  said  that 
I  did  not  believe  it,"  he  cried  hastily.  "  What  I  thought 
at  first  in  my  bewilderment,  —  that  could  not  be  called 
belief."  Now  it  was  the  present  that  he  had  forgotten 
in  the  past,  as  he  strove  desperately  to  recapture  the 
phantoms  and  thrust  them  back  into  their  graves. 

But  she  did  not  seem  to  hear  his  explanation  as 
she  stood  there  gazing  at  him,  her  mind  leaping  light- 
ning-like from  point  to  point.  "  It  was  that  which  made 
you  behave  so  strangely  in  the  garden,"  she  said,  and 
she  spoke  each  phrase  with  a  kind  of  breathless  finality. 
"  You  thought  that  I  —  I  was  like  those  —  those  other 
women  in  the  camp."  As  he  tried  to  take  her  hand  she 
drew  farther  away,  and  stood  looking  at  him  out  of 
eyes  that  were  like  purple  shadows  in  her  white  face. 
It  was  with  a  little  movement  of  anger  that  she  came  to 
herself  at  last.  "And  what  are  you  thinking  of  me 
now?*  Do  you  dare  to  dream  that  the  King  —  "  Turn- 
ing, she  confronted  the  old  warrior  fiercely.  "  Thorkel 
Jarl,  I  ask  you  to  tell  the  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  as  quick  as 
you  can  what  the  King  wants  with  me." 

"  That  I  will  not  do,"  the  Jarl  said  quickly.  "  You 
know  no  prudence,  maiden.  The  Lord  of  Ivarsdale  is 
also  English;  a  mishap  might  occur  if  — " 

She  flung  the  words  at  him ;  "  I  care  not  if  it  lose 
Canute  his  crown!  If  you  will  not  risk  it,  I  will  tell 
him  that  the  King  settles  to-night  with  Edric  of  Mercia 
and  his  men,  and  that  it  is  to  witness  the  punishment 

354 


WHEN    THE    KING   TAKES    A    QUEEN 

of  my  kinsmen's  murderer  that  he  has  sent  for  me.  As 
for  my  camp-life,  ask  Rothgar  himself,  or  Elfgiva,  or  the 
King  —  or  any  soldier  of  the  host!  Of  them  all,  you 
alone  have  thought  such  thoughts  of  me."  She  flung 
up  her  hands  against  him  in  a  kind  of  heart-broken 
rage.  "  You !  To  whose  high-mindedness  I  trusted 
everything  I  have !  "  Hiding  her  face,  she  ran  from 
them,  sobbing,  into  the  house. 


355 


CHAPTER   XXXI 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

Circumspect  and  reserved 

Every  man  should  be, 

And  wary  in  trusting  friends ; 

Of  the  words 

That  a  man  says  to  another 

He  often  pays  the  penalty. 

HAVAMAL. 

AKING  to  tapestried  walls 
and  jewelled  lanterns  and  a 
strange  splendor  of  furnish- 
ings, Randalin  experienced 
a  moment  of  wild  bewilder- 
ment. What  had  happened 
to  the  low-ceiled  dormitory 
with  its  bare  wall-spaces 
splotched  with  dampness? 
What  had  become  of  the 
row  of  white  beds,  with  Dearwyn's  rosy  face  on  the 
next  pillow?  And  she  herself  —  why  was  she  lying  on 
the  outside  of  the  covers,  with  all  her  clothes  on,  a 
cramped  aching  heap?  Rising  on  her  elbow,  she  gazed 
wonderingly  at  the  frowzy  woman  stretched  near  her 
on  a  pallet.  It  was  not  until  the  woman  turned  over, 
puffing  out  her  fat  cheeks  in  a  long  breath,  that  the 
girl  on  the  bed  recognized  her  and  knew  what  room  this 

356 


THE   TWILIGHT    OF    THE    GODS 

was  and  remembered  what  had  happened  to  separate 
to-day  from  all  the  yesterdays  of  her  life.  Falling  down 
upon  the  pillows,  she  lay  with  her  face  hidden  among 
them,  living  over  with  the  swift  sharpness  of  a  renewed 
brain  the  scenes  of  the  previous  night. 

As  she  had  seen  it  from  the  gallery  where  the 
King's  soldiers  had  hidden  her,  she  saw  again  the  great 
stone  hall,  enshrining  a  feasting-table  around  which  a 
throng  of  nobles  in  their  gorgeous  dresses  and  their 
jewels  and  their  diadems  made  a  glittering  halo.  At 
the  farther  end,  the  King  sat  in  his  shining  gilded  chair. 
Just  below  her,  was  Edric  of  Mercia  with  Norman 
Leofwinesson  beside  him.  She  could  not  see  their 
faces  for  their  backs  were  toward  her,  but  now  and 
again  the  Gainer's  velvet  voice  rose  blandly,  and  each 
time  she  was  seized  with  shuddering.  How  was  it 
possible  that  he  did  not  feel  disaster  in  the  air?  To  her 
it  seemed  that  the  very  torch-flames  hissed  warnings 
above  the  merriment,  while  the  occasional  pauses  were 
so  heavy  with  doom  that  their  weight  was  well-nigh 
unendurable;  at  each,  she  was  forced  to  fight  down  a 
mad  impulse  to  scream  and  scatter  the  hush. 

Then  the  light  from  the  taper  which  a  page  was 
holding  behind  Norman  of  Baddeby  fell  upon  the 
gemmed  collar  that  was  his  principal  ornament,  and  the 
sight  wrought  a  subtle  change  in  her  mood.  The  collar 
had  been  her  father's;  she  could  not  look  at  it  without 
seeing  again  his  ruddy  old  face  with  its  grim  mouth 
and  faded  kindly  eyes.  Beside  this  vision  rose  another, 
—  the  vision  of  this  beloved  face  dead  in  the  moonlight, 

357 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

with  Fridtjof s  near  it,  his  brave  smile  frozen  on  his 
young  lips.  From  that  moment,  softness  and  shrinking 
died  out  in  her  bearing  as  out  of  her  heart,  and  her  blood 
was  turned  to  fire  within  her,  —  the  liquid  fire  of  the 
North.  Hour  after  hour,  she  sat  in  rigid  waiting  while 
the  endless  line  of  servants  ran  to  and  fro  with  their 
silver  dishes  and  the  merriment  grew  and  spread  and 
the  clinking  came  faster  and  louder  and  the  voices  grew 
thicker  and  wilder. 

When  the  wave  of  good-will  and  fellowship  had 
reached  its  height,  like  one  who  would  ride  in  upon  its 
crest  the  Gainer  rose  to  his  feet  and  began  speaking  to 
the  King.  His  manner  was  less  smoothly  deferential 
than  when  addressing  Edmund,  she  noticed,  affecting 
more  the  air  of  bluff  frankness  which  one  might  who 
wished  to  disarm  any  suspicion  of  flattering;  but  she 
could  not  hear  what  he  said  because  of  the  noise  around 
him.  The  first  words  she  heard  distinctly  were  Canute's, 
as  he  paused  with  upraised  goblet  to  look  at  the  Mer- 
cian. Like  an  arrow  his  voice  cleft  the  uproar,  so  that 
here  and  there  men  checked  the  speech  on  their  lips  to 
look  at  him,  and  their  neighbors,  observing  them,  paused 
also,  until  the  lull  extended  from  corner  to  corner. 

"  Strangely  do  you  ask,"  he  said.  "  Why  should 
I  give  you  more  than  Edmund  gave  you?  " 

She  had  no  difficulty  in  hearing  Edric  this  time. 
Aggressively  honest,  his  words  rang  out  with  startling 
sharpness :  "  Because  it  was  for  you  that  I  went  against 
Edmund,  and  from  faithfulness  to  you  that  I  afterwards 
destroyed  him." 

358 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

Out  of  the  stillness  that  followed,  a  voice  cried, 
"Are  you  mad?"  and  there  was  the  grating  of  chairs 
thrust  hastily  back.  But,  after  a  great  wrench,  her 
heart  stood  still  within  her  as  through  the  madness  she 
perceived  the  purpose.  As  well  as  Edric  of  Mercia  she 
knew  that  the  young  Viking's  vulnerable  point  was  his 
longing  for  his  own  self-esteem,  a  craving  so  unreckon- 
ing  in  its  fervor  that  —  should  he  have  the  guilty  con- 
sciousness the  traitor  counted  on  —  rather  than  endure 
his  own  reproach  for  cowardice  he  would  be  equal  to 
the  wild  brazenness  of  flinging  the  avowal  in  the  teeth 
of  his  assembled  court.  Her  pulses  began  to  pound  in 
a  furious  dance  as  the  same  flash  of  intuition  showed  her 
the  rock  upon  which  the  Gainer's  audacious  steering 
was  going  to  wreck  him. 

For  no  skulking  guilt  was  in  the  face  of  the  new 
King  of  England  as  he  met  the  startled  glances,  but 
instead  a  kind  of  savage  joy  that  widened  his  nostrils 
and  drew  his  lips  away  from  his  teeth  in  a  terrible 
smile. 

"  Now  much  do  I  thank  whatever  god  has  moved 
you  to  open  speech,"  he  said,  "  for  with  every  fibre  of 
my  body  have  I  long  wanted  to  requite  you  for  that 
faithfulness.  Knowing  that  you  were  coming  to-night 
to  ask  it,  I  have  the  reward  ready.  Never  was  recom- 
pense given  with  a  better  will."  Leaping  to  his  feet,  he 
hurled  the  goblet  in  his  hand  against  the  opposite  wall 
so  that  it  was  shattered  on  the  stone  behind  the  embroid- 
ered hangings.  At  the  signal  the  tapestry  was  lifted,  and 
in  the  light  stood  Eric  of  Norway,  leaning  on  a  mighty 

359 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

battle-axe.  To  him  the  King  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  all 
the  irony  gone  from  it,  leaving  it  awful  as  the  voice  of 
Thor  at  Ragnarok.  "  Do  your  work  where  all  can  see 
you,  Eric  Jarl,  that  no  man  shall  accuse  me  of  being 
afraid  to  bear  my  deeds.  And  let  Norman  Leofwinesson 
die  with  his  lord  for  the  slaying  of  Frode  of  Avalcomb." 

A  roar  of  hideous  sound  —  a  confusion  of  over- 
turned lights,  of  screeching  servants,  of  writhing  strug- 
gling bodies  —  above  it  all,  the  vision  of  that  glittering 
axe  poised  in  the  air  —  then  flashing  downward,  — 
Randalin's  recollections  blurred,  ran  together,  and  faded 
out  in  broken  snatches. 

She  recalled  a  brief  space  of  something  like  sleep- 
walking as  the  soldiers  led  her  through  branching  corri- 
dors to  this  room,  and  fetched  for  her  attendant  the 
only  woman  available,  a  wench  they  had  taken  from 
trencher-washing  in  the  royal  kitchen.  She  remembered 
irritably  rejecting  the  woman's  clumsy  services  and 
sending  her  to  sleep  on  her  pallet,  while  she  herself 
walked  to  and  fro  with  her  surging  thoughts  until  sheer 
physical  exhaustion  forced  her  to  throw  herself  upon  the 
bed.  After  that  she  remembered  —  nothing. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  did  not  disgrace  my  kin  by 
screaming  or  fainting,"  she  reflected  now,  as  she  raised 
herself  stiffly.  "  I  am  glad  I  did  that  much  credit  to  my 
name."  She  flushed  as  her  hand,  touching  the  pillow, 
found  it  wet,  and  for  an  instant  the  bearing  of  her  head 
was  less  erect.  "  I  do  not  remember  what  I  dreamed," 
she  murmured,  "  but  full  well  I  know  that  it  was  not  be- 
cause Norman  Leofwinesson  is  slain  that  I  shed  tears 

360 


THE   TWILIGHT    OF   THE    GODS 

in  my  sleep."  For  a  while  she  drooped  there,  her  eyes 
on  the  open  window,  outside  of  which  a  robin  was 
singing  blithely  among  the  cherries.  But  all  at  once 
she  seized  the  pillow  with  a  kind  of  fierceness,  and 
turned  it  over  and  piled  the  others  on  top  of  it,  crying 
under  her  breath,  "  How  dared  he !  How  dared  he ! 
I  will  shed  no  tears  for  him  while  I  am  awake.  I  will 
remember  only  that  I  am  my  father's  daughter  and  the 
Lady  of  Avalcomb." 

Proudly  as  became  an  odal-woman,  she  followed 
the  page  when  he  came  at  last  to  call  her  to  the  royal 
presence.  The  great  stone  hall  in  which  the  King 
awaited  the  arrival  of  his  Norman  bride  was  the  same 
room  in  which  he  had  feasted  the  night  before,  but 
tables  and  dishes  now  were  gone,  gold-weighted  tapes- 
tries hung  once  more  over  the  door  by  which  Eric  of 
Norway  had  made  his  entrance,  and  a  rich-hued  rug 
from  an  Eastern  loom  lay  over  the  spot  where  she  had 
seen  the  axe  rise  and  fall.  Crossing  the  threshold,  the 
commonplaceness  of  it  all  clashed  so  discordantly  with 
the  scene  in  her  memory  that  for  an  instant  she  grew 
faint  and  clung  to  the  curtains  between  which  she  was 
passing.  That  death  should  leave  so  little  trace,  that 
the  spot  which  one  night  was  occupied  by  a  headsman, 
the  next,  should  hold  a  bride,  made  her  fancy  reel  with 
horror  even  while  she  pulled  herself  together  sternly. 

"This  is  life  as  in  truth  it  is,"  she  said.  "It  is  well 
that  I  understand  at  last  how  terrible  everything  really 
is,  and  how  little  anything  matters."  Forcing  herself 
to  tread  the  rug  with  steady  step,  she  came  where  the 

361 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

King  stood  by  an  open  window.  He  was  as  changed  as 
the  room,  though  in  honor  of  his  bride  he  wore  again 
state  robes  of  silk  and  cloth-of-gold,  for  the  fire  of  the 
Northern  lights  was  gone  out  of  his  face,  leaving  it  dull 
and  lustreless.  In  the  garden  below,  a  minstrel  was 
making  hay  in  the  sun  of  the  royal  glance  by  a  rapid 
improvising  of  flattering  verses  which  he  was  shouting 
lustily  to  his  twanging  harp,  but  now  the  King's  hand 
rose  curtly. 

"  Your  imagination  has  no  small  power,  friend,  yet 
save  some  virtues  in  case  you  should  want  to  sing  to 
me  again,"  he  advised  as  he  tossed  down  a  coin  and 
turned  away. 

His  ward  courtesied  deeply  before  him.  "  For  your 
justice,  King  Canute,  I  give  you  thanks  drawn  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,"  she  said. 

"  I  welcome  you  to  your  own,  Lady  of  Avalcomb," 
he  answered  as  he  returned  her  salutation.  Leaning 
against  the  window  frame  he  stood  a  long  while  looking 
at  her  in  silence,  —  so  long  that  she  was  startled  when 
at  last  he  spoke.  "  Yet  for  the  good  of  the  realm,  I  must 
lay  on  your  odal  one  burden,  Frode's  daughter." 

"  What  is  that,  King?  " 

"  It  is  that  before  the  year  is  out  you  take  a  husband 
who  shall  be  able  to  defend  your  land  in  time  of  need." 

Her  white  cheeks  went  very  red  before  him  and 
then  grew  very  pale  again,  while  her  breast  rose  and 
fell  convulsively.  But  she  clasped  her  hands  over  it 
as  though  to  still  its  protest  and,  suddenly,  she  flung 
up  her  head  in  a  kind  of  trembling  defiance.  "What 

362 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

does  it  matter?  King,  I  know  what  a  Danish  woman 
owes  her  race.  Choose  you  the  man  and  this  shall,  like 
other  things,  be  as  you  wish." 

It  was  evident  that  her  answer  took  him  by  sur- 
prise, for  he  bent  from  the  wall  to  observe  her.  "  7 
choose!  "  he  repeated.  "  Have  you  then  no  choice?  " 

She  tried  to  say  "  No  "  ;  she  tried  desperately  to 
say  it;  but  already  her  courage  was  crumbling  under 
her.  All  at  once  she  took  her  hands  from  her  breast 
to  hold  them  out  pleadingly,  and  her  voice  was  broken : 
"  Lord,  let  me  go  back  to  Avalcomb  —  now  —  to-day !  " 

"Wherefore  to-day?"  he  asked.  "I  had  thought 
you  would  remain  here  for  a  while  and  get  honor  from 
Queen  Emma."  A  moment  he  looked  away  from  her, 
out  of  the  window  at  the  drifting  clouds.  "  I  can  tell 
you,  Frode's  daughter,  that  while  she  is  noble  in  her 
birth,  she  is  still  nobler  in  her  mind,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  Little  would  there  be  in  her  service  for  you  to  take 
ill.  I  think  it  possible  that  she  might  be  highly  helpful 
to  you.  There  is  that  about  her  which  makes  the  good 
in  one  come  out  and  bask  like  a  snake  in  the  sun,  while 
the  evil  slinks  away  shadow-like  — " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  cry  that  was  half  a  sob. 
"  Lord  King,  I  cannot  bear  it  to  see  more  people  that 
are  strange  to  me !  Since  I  left  my  father's  house  I  have 
felt  the  starkness  of  strangers,  and  now  —  now  I  can 
endure  it  no  longer.  My  heart  within  me  is  as  though 
it  were  bruised  black  and  blue.  Let  me  go  back  where 
all  know  me,  —  where  none  will  hold  me  off  at  arm's 
length  to  challenge  me  with  his  eyes,  but  all  love  me  and 

363 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

place  faith  in  me  because  they  know  me.  Lord,  give 
me  leave  to  go  home,  —  pray  it  of  you !  Beseech  it  of 
you ! "  Entreating,  she  would  have  fallen  at  his  feet 
if  he  had  not  caught  her  hands  and  stayed  her. 

He  did  not  release  them  immediately  but  tightened 
his  grasp  as  his  eyes,  grown  suddenly  keen,  searched 
her  face.  His  voice  dropped  low.  "  Randalin,  it  is 
very  unlikely  that  Elfgiva's  scratches  have  brought 
you  to  this.  Do  you  stand  in  need  of  reminding  that 
any  man  who  has  angered  you  has  angered  me?  That 
my  sword  lies  under  your  hand?" 

Her  face  seemed  to  have  become  glass  before  him, 
through  which  he  looked  into  the  innermost  cham- 
bers of  her  mind.  Terror-stricken,  she  snatched 
her  hands  away  to  cover  it.  "  No,  no ! "  she  cried 
wildly.  "  I  am  angry  with  no  one.  I  have  found  fault 
with  no  one.  Draw  no  sword  for  me  —  only  let  me 
go!" 

Again  he  turned  from  her  and  stood  looking  out 
at  the  clouds ;  but  when  at  last  he  spoke,  his  voice  was 
the  gentlest  she  had  ever  heard  it.  "  You  are  wise  in 
this,  as  in  other  things,  Frode's  daughter,"  he  said,  "  and 
you  shall  certainly  have  your  way.  I  take  it  that  I  am 
your  guardian  to  protect  you  from  harm,  not  to  force 
you  into  things  you  do  not  want.  Soldiers  I  can  trust 
shall  go  with  you,  in  case  there  be  danger  from  Nor- 
man's people,  and  for  women  —  " 

She  spoke  up  eagerly,  "  There  is  an  old  nun  at 
Saint  Mildred's,  King,  who  loves  me.  I  think  she  would 
come  to  me  until  others  could  be  found." 

364 


THE   TWILIGHT    OF    THE    GODS 

"  Go  then,"  he  granted.  "  Thorkel  shall  see  to  it 
that  men  and  horses  are  ready  when  you  are."  He  held 
out  his  hand,  but  when  she  took  it  in  both  of  hers  and 
would  have  saluted  it  reverently,  he  would  not  let  her 
but  instead  raised  her  fingers  to  his  lips.  An  odd  note 
was  in  his  voice.  "  Heavy  is  it  for  my  tongue  to  say 
farewell  to  you,  Frode's  daughter,"  he  said,  "  for  your 
friendship  has  surpassed  most  other  things  in  pleasant- 
ness to  me." 

Frank  liking  mingled  with  gratitude  and  reverence 
as  she  looked  up  at  him.  "  I  have  got  great  kindness 
and  favor  from  you,  King  Canute ;  I  pray  that  you  will 
be  very  happy  with  your  Queen." 

A  moment  he  pressed  his  lips  to  her  hand;  then 
gently  set  it  free.  "  I  give  you  thanks,"  he  returned, 
"  but  happiness  is  for  me  to  wish  you.  The  best  you 
can  ask  for  me  is  that  sometime  I  shall  become  what 
you  believed  me  to  be  the  day  you  came  to  me  at 
Scoerstan." 

She  tried  to  tell  him  that  she  believed  him  that 
now,  —  but  something  in  her  forbade  the  untruth.  She 
could  do  no  more  than  leave  him,  with  a  mute  gesture 
of  farewell. 

Perhaps  her  gaze  was  not  quite  clear  as  she  crossed 
the  room,  for  she  did  not  see  that  the  door-curtains  were 
moving  until  she  was  close  upon  them,  when  they  were 
thrust  apart  to  admit  the  form  of  Rothgar  Lodbroksson. 
Stifling  a  gasp,  she  shrank  behind  a  tall  chair. 

He  did  not  see  her,  however,  for  his  eyes  were 
fastened  upon  the  King,  who  had  turned  back  to  the 

365 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

window.  He  had  cast  aside  the  splendor  of  the  royal 
guards,  wearing  over  his  steel  shirt  a  kittle  of  blue 
that  made  his  florid  face  seem  redder  and  gave  to  his 
fiery  hair  a  hotter  glow.  Two  sentinels  carrying  shining 
pikes  had  followed  him  in,  uncertainly,  and  now  one 
plucked  at  his  arm.  But  the  Jotun  shook  him  off  to 
stride  forward,  clanking  his  heels  with  intentional 
noisiness  upon  the  stone  floor. 

At  the  clatter  the  King  looked  around,  and  the  tone 
in  which  he  spoke  his  friend's  name  had  in  it  more  of 
passion  than  all  the  lover's  phrases  he  had  ever  paid 
Elfgiva's  ears.  At  the  same  time,  he  made  a  sharp  sign 
to  the  two  sentinels.  "  Get  back  to  your  posts,"  he 
said. 

Hesitating  they  saluted  and  unwilling  they  wheeled, 
while  one  spoke  bluntly  over  his  shoulder.  "  It  would 
be  better  to  let  us  stay,  King,  if  you  please.  You  are 
weaponless." 

"  Go,"  Canute  repeated. 

In  a  moment  the  doors  beyond  the  curtain  had 
closed  behind  them,  and  the  two  men  were  alone  save 
for  the  girl  hiding  forgotten  in  the  shadow  of  the  chair. 

Rothgar  laughed  jarringly.  "  Whatever  has  been 
told  about  you,  you  have  not  yet  been  accounted  a 
coward.  But  I  do  not  see  how  you  know  I  shall  not 
kill  you.  I  have  dreamed  of  it  not  a  few  times." 

Something  like  a  veil  seemed  to  fall  over  the  King's 
face;  from  behind  it  he  spoke  slowly  as  he  moved 
away  to  the  dais  upon  which  his  throne-chair  stood, 
and  mounted  the  steps.  "  The  same  dream  has  come 

366 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

to  me,  but  never  has  it  occurred  to  me  to  seek  you 
out  to  tell  you  of  it." 

"  No  such  purpose  had  I,"  the  Jotun  said  with  a 
touch  of  surliness.  Pulling  a  bag  from  under  his  belt, 
he  shook  out  of  it  upon  the  floor  a  mane  of  matted 
yellow  hair.  "If  you  want  to  know  my  errand,  it  is 
to  bring  you  this.  Yesterday  it  came  to  my  ears  that 
one  of  my  men  was  suspected  of  having  tried  to  give 
you  poison  through  your  wife's  British  thrall.  I  got 
them  before  me  and  questioned  them,  and  the  Scar- 
Cheek  boasted  of  having  done  it.  This  is  his  hair.  If 
you  remember  anything  about  the  fellow,  you  under- 
stand that  he  was  not  alive  when  I  took  it  from  him." 

The  King  looked  immovably  at  the  yellow  mass. 
"  You  have  behaved  in  a  chieftain-like  way  and  I  thank 
you  for  it,"  he  said.  "  But  I  would  have  liked  it  better 
if  you  had  come  to  me  about  the  judgment  that  raised 
this  wall  between  us  —  " 

Rothgar's  throat  gave  out  a  savage  sound.  "  Tempt 
me  not !  I  am  no  sluggish  wolf." 

But  Canute  spoke  on :  "  What  I  expected  that  day 
was  that  you  would  come  to  me,  as  friend  comes  to 
friend,  and  with  my  loose  property  I  would  redeem  from 
you  every  stick  and  stone  which  my  kingship  had  forced 
me  to  hold  back.  Not  more  than  they  have  called  me 
coward,  have  men  ever  called  me  stingy  —  " 

"  And  when  have  men  called  me  greedy  ? "  the 
Jotun  bellowed.  "  Your  thoughts  have  got  a  bad  habit 
of  lying  about  me  if  they  say  that  it  was  greed  for 
land  which  made  me  take  your  judgment  angrily.  Ex- 

367 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

cept  for  the  honor  of  my  stock,  what  want  I  with  land 
while  I  have  a  ship  to  bear  me?  I  tell  you,  now  as 
heretofore,  that  it  was  your  treachery  which  unsheathed 
a  sword  between  us." 

"Rothgar  my  brother, — "  the  veil  was  rent  from  the 
King's  face  and  he  had  stepped  from  the  dais  and  seized 
the  other  by  the  shoulders  as  though  he  would  wrestle 
bodily  with  him,  —  "  by  the  Holy  Ring,  I  swear  that  I 
have  never  betrayed  you!  If  you  grudge  not  the  land 
to  the  Englishman,  you  have  no  cause  to  grudge  him 
anything  under  Ymer's  skull.  Can  a  man  change  his 
blood?  —  for  so  much  a  part  of  me  is  my  friendship 
for  you.  Time  never  was  when  it  was  not  there,  and 
it  would  be  as  possible  to  fill  my  veins  with  Thames 
water  as  to  put  an  Englishman  into  your  place.  Can 
you  not  understand  —  " 

But  Rothgar's  hand  had  fallen  upon  the  other's 
breast  and  pushed  him  backward  so  that  he  was  forced 
to  catch  at  the  chair-arm  to  save  himself  from  falling. 
"  Never  get  afraid  about  that,"  he  sneered.  "  Since  we 
slept  in  one  cradle,  I  have  been  a  thick-headed  Thrym 
and  your  Loke's  wit  has  fooled  me  into  doing  your 
bidding  and  fighting  your  battles  and  giving  you  my 
toil  and  my  limbs  and  my  faith,  but  wisdom  has  grown 
in  me  at  last.  You  undertake  too  steep  a  climb  when 
you  try  to  make  me  believe  in  your  love  while  before 
my  eyes  you  give  to  the  man  I  hate  my  lands  and  the 
woman  you  had  promised  me  and  my  place  above  your 
men  —  "  His  rage  choked  him  so  that  he  was  obliged 
to  break  off  and  stand  drawing  his  sword  from  his 

368 


THE   TWILIGHT    OF   THE   GODS 

sheath  and  slamming  it  back  with  a  sharp  sound.  His 
voice  came  back  in  a  hoarse  roar.  "  When  I  reckon 
up  the  debt  against  you,  I  know  that  the  only  thing  to 
wipe  it  out  would  be  your  life.  Not  taken  by  poison 
nor  underhandedly,  but  torn  out  of  your  deceitful  body 
as  we  stand  face  to  face.  If  I  could  do  that,  it  might 
be  that  my  anger  would  be  quenched."  Again  he  drew 
his  blade  half  out,  —  and  this  time  he  did  not  shove  it 
back.  His  huge  body  seemed  to  draw  itself  together, 
crouching,  as  he  leaned  forward.  "  Why  do  you  stand 
there  looking  as  though  you  thought  you  were  Odin? 
Do  you  think  to  blunt  my  weapon  with  your  eyes? 
Why  do  you  tempt  me  ?  " 

The  King  had  not  moved  away  from  the  chair 
against  which  he  had  staggered,  and  the  prints  of  his 
nails  were  on  its  arm.  He  was  as  though  he  had 
hardened  to  stone.  "  To  show  you  that  I  am  stronger 
than  you,  though  I  face  you  with  bare  hands,"  he  said. 
"  To  show  you  that  you  dare  not  kill  me." 

"  Dare  not !  "  Rothgar's  laughter  was  a  hideous 
thing  as  he  cleared  at  a  bound  the  space  between  them. 
His  sword  was  full-drawn  now.  "  Shout  for  your 
guards!  It  may  be  that  they  will  get  here  in  time." 

But  the  King  neither  gave  back  nor  raised  his 
voice.  "  I  will  not,"  he  said,  "  nor  will  I  lift  hand 
against  you.  Never  shall  you  have  it  to  say  that  I 
forgot  you  had  endangered  your  life  for  mine.  On  your 
head  it  shall  be  to  break  the  blood-oath." 

Now  they  were  breast  to  breast.  In  her  mind,  the 
girl  in  the  shadow  flung  open  the  doors  and  shrieked 

24  369 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

to  the  sentinels  and  roused  the  Palace;  in  her  body, 
she  stood  spellbound,  voiceless,  breathless. 

Still  Rothgar  did  not  strike.  It  was  the  King  who 
spoke  this  time  also.  "  Among  the  sayings  of  men  in 
Norway,"  he  said  coldly,  "  there  is  one  they  tell  of  a 
traitor  who  carried  a  sword  of  death  against  his  King, 
but  lacked  the  boldness  to  use  it  before  the  King's  face. 
So  he  begged  his  lord  to  wrap  a  cloak  around  his  head 
that  he  might  get  the  courage  to  ask  a  boon.  When 
that  had  been  done,  he  stabbed.  Do  you  want  me  to 
cover  my  eyes?  " 

With  a  hoarse  cry,  Rothgar  flung  his  sword  back 
to  his  sheath,  recoiling,  —  there  was  even  a  kind  of  fear 
in  his  manner :  "  A  fool  would  I  be,  to  set  your  ghost 
free  to  follow  me  with  that  look  on  its  face!  Keep 
your  life  —  and  instead  I  will  torture  every  Angle  I 
can  get  under  my  grip,  for  it  is  they  who  have  turned 
a  great  hero  into  a  nithing  —  may  they  despise  you  as 
you  have  despised  your  people  for  their  sakes !  "  In- 
voking the  curse  with  a  sweep  of  his  handless  arm,  he 
strode  from  the  room. 

Randalin  did  not  see  when  he  passed  her,  for  her 
eyes  were  on  the  King  as  he  stood  looking  after  his 
foster-brother. 

"  Ah,  God,  what  a  terrible  world  hast  Thou  made !  " 
she  murmured,  as  she  put  up  her  hands  to  ease  the 
swelling  agony  in  her  throat.  "  No  longer  will  I  try 
to  live  in  it.  I  will  go  to  the  Sisters  and  remain  with 
them  always." 

Through  the  doors  opening  before  the  Jotun  there 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

came  in  a  sudden  buzz  of  laughing  voices,  while  a 
breeze  brought  through  the  window  a  ringing  of  bells 
and  a  clarioning  of  approaching  horns.  Upon  the  girl 
in  the  shadow  and  the  King  on  the  dais,  the  sounds 
fell  like  the  dissolving  of  a  spell.  She  ran  swiftly  to  the 
little  door  behind  the  tapestry  and  let  herself  out  unseen, 
unheard.  The  King  mounted  the  throne  he  had  won 
and  sat  there  in  regal  state,  facing  the  throng  of  splen- 
did courtiers  trooping  in  to  give  him  their  wedding 
greetings. 


37' 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

IN   TIME'S   MORNING 

He  wins  who  woos. 

HAVAMAL. 

I  HE  hot  glare  of  a  July  sun 
was  on  the  stones  of  the 
Watling  Street  and  July 
[winds  were  driving  hosts  of 
[battling  dust-clouds  along 
the  highway,  but  in  the 
herb  garden  of  Saint  Mil- 
dred's cool  shadows  lay 
over  the  dew-beaded  grass 
'and  all  was  restfulness  and 
peace.  The  voice  of  the  girl  who  was  following  Sister 
Wynfreda  from  mint  clump  to  parsley  bed,  from  fennel 
to  rue,  was  not  much  louder  than  the  droning  of  the 
bees  in  the  lavender. 

"  If  it  be  true  as  you  say,  — "  she  was  speaking 
with  the  passionate  bitterness  of  wounded  youth,  —  "  if 
it  be  true  that  in  his  place  anyone  would  have  believed 
what  he  believed,  then  is  this  a  very  hateful  world  and 
I  want  no  further  part  in  it." 

Over  the  fragrant  leaves  which  she  was  touching 
as  fondly  as  if  they  had  been  children's  faces,  Sister 


IN   TIME'S    MORNING 

Wynfreda  gently  shook  her  head.  "  Think  not  that  it 
is  altogether  through  the  world's  evil-heartedness,  dear 
child.  Think  rather  that  it  is  because  mankind  is  not 
always  brave  and  shrinks  from  disappointment,  that  it 
dares  not  believe  in  good  until  good  is  proved." 

"  I  know  that  one  dares  not  always  believe  in  happi- 
ness, the  girl  conceded  slowly,  "  for  when  my  happiness 
was  like  a  green  swelling  wave,  white  fear  sprang  from 
the  crest  of  it  and  it  fell  —  Sister,  did  that  forebode  my 
sorrow?  " 

Awhile,  the  nun's  eyes  widened  and  paled  as  eyes 
that  see  a  vision,  but  at  last  she  bowed  her  head  to 
trace  a  cross  upon  her  breast.  "  Not  so ;  it  is  God's 
wisdom,"  she  said,  "  else  would  the  world  be  so  beauti- 
ful that  we  would  never  hunger  after  heaven." 

Mechanically,  Randalin's  hands  followed  hers 
through  the  holy  sign;  then  she  clasped  them  before 
her  to  wring  them  in  impatient  pain.  "  That  is  so  long 
to  go  hungry,  Sister!  I  shall  be  past  my  appetite." 
Dropping  down  beside  the  other,  her  slim  young  fingers 
began  to  imitate  the  gnarled  old  ones  as  they  weeded 
and  straightened.  "  I  wonder  at  it,  Sister  Wynfreda, 
that  you  do  not  urge  me  to  creep  in  with  you.  A  year 
ago»  you  wanted  it  when  I  wanted  it  not;  but  now 
when  I  am  willing,  you  hold  me  off." 

"  Is  it  clear  before  your  mind  that  you  are  willing, 
my  daughter? "  the  nun  asked  gently.  As  she  drew 
herself  to  her  feet  with  the  aid  of  a  bush,  the  cramping 
of  her  feeble  stiffened  muscles  contracted  her  face  in 
momentary  pain,  but  her  eyes  were  serene  as  the  altar 

373 


THE    WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

lamps.  "  It  lies  upon  you  to  remember,  little  sister, 
that  those  who  would  serve  God  around  the  altar  must 
not  go  thither  only  because  the  world  has  mistreated 
them  and  they  would  cast  it  off  to  avenge  the  smart. 
She  who  puts  on  the  yoke  of  Christ  must  needs  do  so 
because  it  is  the  thing  she  would  desire  of  all,  were  all 
precious  things  spread  out  for  her  choosing.  Can  you 
look  into  my  eyes  and  say  that  it  would  be  so  with 
you?  " 

Where  she  knelt  before  her,  the  girl  suddenly  threw 
her  arms  around  the  woman  and  hid  her  face  in  the 
faded  robes.  The  frail  hand  stroked  the  dark  hair 
affectionately. 

'*  Think  not  that  I  would  upbraid  you  with  it,  child 
as  dear  as  my  own  heart.  When  the  Power  that  took 
you  from  me  led  you  back  again,  and  I  read  what  God's 
fingers  had  written  on  your  face  that  before  was  like 
a  lineless  parchment,  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  mind  to 
wish  you  otherwise.  I  felt  only  shame  for  the  weakness 
of  my  faith,  and  joy  past  all  telling." 

Under  the  soothing  hand,  Randalin's  sobs  slowly 
ceased;  when  at  last  she  raised  her  wet  eyes  there 
was  no  longer  rebellion  in  them  but  only  youth's 
measureless  despair.  "  Sister,  now  as  always,  I  want 
to  do  what  you  would  have  me  —  but  I  am  so  full 
of  grief!  Must  I  go  back  to  Avalcomb  and  begin 
all  over  again?  It  seems  to  me  that  my  life  stretches 
before  me  no  more  alluringly  than  yonder  dusty  road, 
that  runs  straight  on,  on,  over  vast  spaces  but  always 
empty." 

374 


The  beauty  that  had  been  Sister  Wynfreda's  hov- 
ered now  about  her  mouth  as  fragrance  around  a  dead 
rose.  Her  gaze  was  on  a  branch  above  them  where  a 
little  brown  bird,  calling  plaintively,  was  slipping  from 
her  nest.  Over  the  wattled  edge,  two  tiny  brown  heads 
were  peeping  like  fuzzy  beech-nut  rinds.  "  I  wonder," 
she  said,  "  what  those  little  creatures  up  there  will 
think  when  a  few  months  hence  the  blue  sky  becomes 
leaden,  such  that  no  one  of  them  ever  before  recol- 
lected it  so  dark,  and  the  sun  that  is  wont  to  creep  to 
them  through  the  leaves  has  gone  out  like  a  candle  be- 
fore the  winter  winds?  By  reason  of  their  youth,  I  sup- 
pose they  will  judiciously  conclude  with  themselves  that 
there  is  never  going  to  be  any  blue  sky  again,  that  their 
lives  will  stretch  before  them  in  a  dark-hued  stress  of 
weather,  empty  of  all  save  leafless  trees  and  frozen  fields. 
My  fledgeling,  will  they  not  be  a  little  ashamed  of  their 
short-sightedness  when  the  spring  has  brought  back 
the  sun?" 

The  girl's  lips  parted  before  her  quickening 
breath,  and  the  old  nun  smiled  at  her  tenderly  as  she 
moved  away  with  her  hands  full  of  the  green  sym- 
bols of  healing.  "  Settle  not  the  whole  day  of  your 
life  at  its  morning,  most  dear  child,  but  live  it  hour 
by  hour,"  she  said.  "  If  you  would  be  of  use  now, 
go  gather  the  flowers  for  the  Holy  Table,  and  when 
themselves  have  drawn  in  holiness  from  the  spot, 
then  shall  you  bring  them  to  the  sick  woman  over  the 
hill." 

"  Yes,  Sister,"  the  girl  said  submissively. 
375 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

But  when  she  had  crossed  the  daisied  grass  and 
opened  the  wicket  gate  and  came  out  into  the  fragrant 
lane,  something  seemed  to  divide  her  mind  with  the 
roses,  for  though  she  sent  one  glance  toward  the  hedge, 
she  sent  another  to  the  spot  beyond  —  where  the  lane 
gave  out  upon  the  great  Street  to  the  City  —  and  after 
she  had  walked  a  little  way  toward  the  flowers,  she 
turned  and  walked  a  long  way  toward  the  road,  until 
she  had  come  where  her  eyes  could  follow  its  white 
track  far  away  over  the  hills. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  hunger  for  heaven  as  I 
hunger  for  the  sight  of  him,"  she  murmured  as  she 
gazed. 

But  whatever  the  valleys  might  hold,  the  hillsides 
showed  her  nothing ;  sighing,  she  turned  back.  "  It  seems 
to  me,"  she  said,  "  that  if  we  could  have  little  tastes  of 
heaven  as  we  went  along,  then  would  there  still  be 
enough  left  and  the  road  would  seem  much  shorter." 
Sighing,  she  set  to  work  upon  the  roses,  that  had  twined 
themselves  in  a  kindly  veil  over  the  bushes. 

Standing  so,  it  happened  that  she  did  not  see  the 
horseman  who  was  just  gaining  the  crest  of  the  nearest 
hill  between  her  and  the  City.  The  wind  being  from 
her,  she  did  not  even  hear  the  hoof-beats  until  the  horse 
had  turned  from  the  glare  of  the  sun  into  the  shadow 
of  the  fern-bordered  lane.  The  first  she  knew  of  it,  she 
glanced  over  her  shoulder  and  saw  the  red-cloaked 
figure  riding  toward  her  along  the  grass-grown  path. 

As  naturally  as  a  flower  opens  its  heart  at  the 
coming  of  the  sun,  she  leaned  toward  him,  breathing  his 

376 


IN    TIME'S    MORNING 

name ;  then  in  an  impulse  equally  natural,  as  he  leaped 
from  his  saddle  before  her,  she  drew  back  and  half 
averted  her  face,  flickering  red  and  white  like  the  blos- 
soms she  was  clasping  to  her  breast. 

He  stopped  abruptly,  a  short  stretch  of  grass  still 
between  them,  —  and  it  soothed  her  bruised  pride  a 
little  that  there  was  no  longer  any  confident  ease  in  his 
manner  but  only  hesitation  and  uncertainty.  His  voice 
was  greatly  troubled  as  he  spoke :  "  Never  can  I  forgive 
myself  for  having  wounded  you,  sweetheart,  yet  had 
I  hoped  that  you  might  forgive  me,  because  I  knew  not 
what  I  did  and  because  I  have  suffered  so  sorely  for  it." 

"  You  have  suffered,"  she  repeated  with  a  little 
accent  of  bitterness. 

"  I  beseech  you  by  my  love  that  you  do  not  doubt 
it !  "  Hesitation  gave  way  before  a  warmth  of  reproach. 
"  For  a  man  to  know  that  he  has  wounded  what  he 
would  have  died  to  shield  —  that  he  has  wronged  where 
he  would  have  given  his  life  to  honor  —  that  it  may  be 
he  has  lost  what  is  body  and  soul  to  him,  —  what  else 
is  that  but  suffering?  " 

It  was  only  a  very  little  that  her  face  turned  toward 
him,  and  he  could  not  see  how  her  downcast  eyes  were 
taking  fire  from  his  voice.  He  stood  looking  at  her  in 
despair,  until  something  in  the  poise  of  her  head  taught 
him  a  new  rune  among  love's  spells.  Drawing  softly 
near  her,  he  spoke  in  noblest  conciliation :  "  Is  it  your 
pride  that  cannot  pardon  me,  Lady  of  Avalcomb?  Do 
I  seem  to  sue  for  grace  too  boldly  because  I  forget  to 
make  my  body  match  the  humbleness  of  my  heart? 

377 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

Except  in  prayer  or  courtesy,  we  are  not  loose  of  knee, 
we  Angles,  but  I  would  stoop  as  low  as"  I  lowest  might 
if  that  could  make  you  kinder,  dear  one."  Baring  his 
head,  he  knelt  down  at  her  feet,  —  and  the  difference 
between  this  and  the  time  when  he  had  bent  before  her 
in  the  Abbey,  was  the  difference  between  tender  jest  and 
tenderest  earnest.  "  Thus  then  do  I  ask  you  to  give 
me  back  your  love,"  he  said  gently,  —  and  would  have 
said  more  but  that  she  turned,  stirred  to  a  kind  of 
generous  shame. 

"  It  needs  not  that,  lord !  I  know  you  did  not  mean 
it.  And  they  have  told  me  that  —  that  I  have  no  right 
to  be  angry  with  you  —  "  She  broke  off,  as  looking  into 
his  face  she  saw  something  that  startled  her  into  forget- 
fulness  of  all  else.  "  Why  are  your  cheeks  so  hollow?  " 
she  demanded.  "And  so  gray  —  as  though  you  had 
lost  blood?  Lord,  what  has  come  near  you?  " 

He  could  not  conceal  the  sudden  pleasure  he  got 
out  of  her  alarm  for  him,  even  while  he  answered  as 
lightly  as  he  could  that  it  was  no  more  than  the  fatigue 
of  his  three  days  in  the  saddle ;  and  a  lack  of  food,  per- 
haps, as  he  had  been  somewhat  pressed  for  time;  and 
a  lack  of  sleep  because  of  — 

But  she  was  a  warrior's  daughter,  and  she  would 
not  be  put  off.  Coming  close  to  him,  she  pulled  aside 
the  dusty  cloak,  hot  as  a  live  coal  in  the  glare  of  the 
day,  and  there  —  behold !  —  there  were  blood  stains  on 
the  breast  of  his  blue  kirtle.  Forgetful  of  everything 
else,  she  flung  her  arms  around  him  as  though  to  shield 
him.  "  Sebert,  you  are  wounded!  What  is  it?  " 

378 


IN   TIME'S    MORNING 

Nothing  that  troubled  him  very  much,  apparently, 
for  his  haggard  face  had  grown  radiant  with  gladness. 
Yet  he  was  enough  afraid  of  the  reaction  to  answer  her 
as  gravely  as  possible :  "  It  is  Rothgar  Lodbroksson, 
whom  I  met  coming  from  the  City  as  I  was  journeying 
back  from  my  errand  in  Northampton.  Little  affection 
has  ever  passed  between  us,  and  this  time  something 
more  than  usual  seemed  to  have  stirred  him  against  me, 
for  —  " 

"  He  tried  to  kill  you !  "  The  words  were  not  a 
question  but  a  breathless  assertion  as  she  remembered 
the  Jotun's  last  threat. 

"  He  tried  to  kill  me,"  the  Marshal  assented  quietly. 
"  And  his  blade  did  manage  to  pierce  my  mail ;  he  is  a 
giant  in  strength  as  in  other  things.  But  it  cut  no  more 
than  flesh ;  and  after  that,  Fortune  wheeled  not  toward 
him." 

"You  slew  him!" 

Her  lips  were  white  as  she  gasped  it,  but  he  knew 
now  that  it  was  no  love  for  the  Jotun  that  moved  her, 
and  he  answered  promptly  to  her  unspoken  thought: 
"  No,  sweet,  —  for  the  King's  sake,  I  spared  him.  Be- 
fore this,  his  men  have  taken  him  aboard  his  ship  and 
England  is  rid  of  him." 

Murmuring  broken  phrases  of  thanksgiving,  she 
stood  holding  the  cloak  she  had  grasped,  but  he  dreaded 
too  much  the  moment  of  her  awakening  to  await  its 
coming  inactive.  Slipping  his  arms  around  her,  he 
began  to  speak  swiftly,  the  moment  her  silence  gave 
him  an  opening. 

379 


THE   WARD    OF    KING   CANUTE 

"  Never  did  I  blame  Rothgar  much  for  his  enmity 
against  me,  and  now  I  thank  him  for  this  cut  as  for  a 
gift,  for  through  it  I  know  that  at  least  you  have  not 
outlawed  me  from  your  love.  Dear  one,  as  you  are  not 
unkind  to  so  slight  a  thing  as  this  wound  in  my  flesh, 
so  neither  be  without  pity  for  the  one  that  is  so  much 
deeper,  in  my  heart !  As  the  scratch  stayed  your  anger 
for  a  while,  so,  in  the  gentleness  of  love,  let  this  which 
is  mortal  stay  it  for  all  time." 

With  his  arms  around  her,  she  could  not  shrink 
very  far  away,  —  nor  was  it  seen  that  she  tried  to,  — 
but  all  at  once  her  words  came  in  uneven  rushes: 
"  How  can  I  hold  anger  against  you  when,  with  every 
breath,  my  lips  sigh  for  your  kisses?  Yet  let  no  one 
wonder  at  it  that  I  am  frightened.  .  .  .  You  cannot 
conceive  what  a  lurking  place  for  terrors  the  world 
looks  to  me!  Never,  I  think,  shall  I  see  men  sitting 
together  that  I  shall  not  suspect  them  of  having  murder 
in  their  hearts.  Never  shall  I  see  two  friends  clasp 
hands  but  my  mind  will  run  forward  to  a  time  when 
they  shall  part  in  wrath  and  loneliness.  Nay,  even  of 
the  sound  of  my  own  voice  I  am  afraid,  lest  whom- 
soever is  hearing  it  —  for  all  that  he  speak  me  fair  — 
be  twisting  the  words  in  his  mind  into  evils  I  have  not 
dreamed  of.  Sebert,  I  do  not  reproach  you  with  it! 
I  think  it  all  the  fault  of  my  own  blunders,  —  and 
therein  I  find  a  new  terror.  That  one  should  suffer  for 
wrong-doing  is  to  be  looked  for,  but  if  one  is  to  be  dealt 
with  so  unsparingly  only  for  making  mistakes,  who 
knows  where  his  position  is  or  what  to  expect?  Oh, 

380 


IN   TIME'S    MORNING 

my  best  friend,  make  me  brave  or  I  am  likely  to  die 
only  through  fearing  to  live!  With  my  ignorance  my 
boldness  went  from  me,  until  now  my  courage  is  lowly 
as  a  willow  leaf.  Love,  make  me  brave  again !  "  Trust- 
ing, in  her  very  declaration  of  distrust,  she  clung  to  him 
to  save  her  from  herself. 

It  was  in  the  briar-pricked  fingers,  which  he  was 
pressing  against  his  cheek,  that  he  found  his  answer. 
Suddenly  he  spread  them  out  in  his  palm  before  her, 
laughing  with  joyful  lightness.  "  Randalin,  the  thorns 
wounded  your  hands  the  while  that  you  stripped  yonder 
hedge,  but  did  you  stop  for  that?  If  I  can  prove  to  you 
that  all  these  dark  days  you  have  been  but  plucking 
roses,  can  you  not  bravely  bear  with  the  pricks?  " 

Putting  her  gently  from  him,  he  gathered  up  the 
spoils  she  had  let  fall,  picking  from  among  them  with 
great  care  the  fairest  of  either  kind,  while  she,  catching 
his  mood,  watched  him  April-faced. 

"  This,"  he  said  gaily,  "  is  the  red  rose  of  my  heart. 
Battle-fields  lay  between  us  and  tower  walls,  and  the 
way  was  long  and  hard  to  find,  yet  can  you  deny,  my 
elf,  that  you  came  in  and  plucked  it  and  wore  it  away 
in  your  hair,  —  to  keep  or  to  cast  aside  as  pleased  you?  " 

Smiles  and  tears  growing  together,  she  caught  the 
blossom  from  him  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  "  I  will 
wear  it  in  my  bosom,"  she  answered,  "  for  my  breast 
has  been  empty  —  since  the  day  I  saw  you  first." 

Smiling,  he  held  out  the  white  rose,  but  his  mood 
had  deepened  until  now  he  looked  down  upon  her  as  he 
had  looked  down  upon  her  in  the  moonlit  forest.  "  This, 


THE   WARD    OF    KING    CANUTE 

beloved,  is  the  symbol  of  my  faith,"  he  said.  "  Your 
eyes  took  it  from  me  that  day  at  even-song.  I  hold  it 
the  dearer  of  the  two,  for  with  it  goes  my  honor  that 
is  as  stainless  as  its  petals.  It  is  worth  more  than  life 
to  me,  —  is  it  not  worth  some  pricks  to  you?  " 

She  took  it  from  him  reverently,  to  lay  it  beside 
the  other,  and  as  her  face  was  too  proud  for  fear  so  was 
it  too  tender  for  jesting.  "  I  am  more  honored,"  she 
told  him,  "  than  Canute  by  his  crown  ;  and  I  will  live 
as  bravely  to  defend  them." 

But  as  he  would  have  caught  her  to  him,  she 
leaned  back  suddenly  to  stretch  a  hand  toward  a  dark- 
robed  figure  standing  under  the  moss-grown  arch,  and 
her  pride  melted  into  a  laugh  of  breathless  happiness. 
"  Sister  Wynfreda,  you  were  very  right,"  she  called 
softly,  "the  world  can  be  so  beautiful  that  one  has  no 
hunger  for  heaven." 


END 


382 


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